


Atlas

by wornquillsandspilledink



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (I hope????), Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Post TLJ, Slow Burn, but it fixes itself in later chapters, just a lot of mess tbh, pilot! reader, poe is ooc at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wornquillsandspilledink/pseuds/wornquillsandspilledink
Summary: The resistance is in shambles after their run-in with the First Order on Hoth, but all hope may not be lost. Word of a separate, smaller rebellion is traveling through the galaxy and may just be the resistance’s only chance at regrowth, but joining together may not prove as simple as it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be a giant mess, but you know what, we're doing our best in these parts! Speaking of parts, this is only chapter one of like 15ish?? This may seem like a slow chapter but hey,,, we've got to plot build a bit. Anyway, I'm going to stop talking now. Hope you enjoy!

You might have thought you were lost had you not known these white deserts sands so well. Sand dunes upon sand dunes race past your eyes and you begin to worry. The dome is nowhere in sight. Clenching your jaw and push your X-wing faster, watching as the already streaks of hot sand become one big blur of white. Narrowing your eyes, you see it. The glass covering almost makes your little base look like a mirage in the sunlight - precisely the reason behind the architecture - but you know better than to believe it to be just a trick of the eyes. Suppressing a grin, you double down on your ship, forcing the ship to give all the speed it’s got. You approach the glass dome, expertly pulling back on the controls to slow the ship for a perfectly executed landing and slipping into the slight dome opening that leads to the tarmac. Stilling your ship and quickly shutting the engines down, you open the hatch, rip your helmet off, and jump out of your X-wing - feet landing on hard ground - before you allow yourself to speak.

“What’s my time?” you yell, breath heavy and heart beating erratically from the sheer adrenaline rushing through your system.

“Well, your last time was five minutes and two seconds. Your new time is...” Tadia - a fellow pilot, training partner, and your resident best friend - pauses for suspense, “four minutes and ten seconds.”

Your face immediately splits into a huge grin and your fling your arms around Tadia’s neck, disrupting the bright blue hair that lay there.

“Four minutes ten seconds? That’s nearly a full minute off! Holy shit! That’s a new record!” You spin your friend around on your merry excitement.

“You say that like you weren’t the one that set the last record. And the one before that. And basically every other flight record.” Tadia rolls her eyes but laughs along with you as you continue to hoot and cheer at your new training time, not able to hold back her grin as well. Though, her serious call of your name soon pulls you out of your joyous reverie. “I think we have a crowd.”

You pull away from her in confusion, but when you turn your body, you find that she is right. A group of no more than sixty people stands in front. You recognize only one face.

“General Gehrig.” You quickly bring yourself back to a serious disposition as you approach your commander and the accompanying crowd, moving to stand at attention when General Gehrig's words stop you.

“At ease, Commander. We’re not on official business, so there’s no need for the formalities.” The general speaks, a lightness to his usually straightforward voice.

General Gehrig is no older than fifty-five, but his looks would say otherwise. In just the six years that you’ve known him, you’ve seen how the war has taken a toll on him. Before you met him those years ago, the Empire took away his family, his livelihood, his home planet, his  _everything_. The past few years have been no kinder to him. After being unable to find General Organa’s resistance, it was decided that another would be created, and Gehrig would be the one to lead it. The battle has made him colder than what he once was, but his sternness is a strange comfort to you.

Your face heats at his words. “Sorry, you know what they say. Old habits and what not. I see we have visitors…?” Your words trail off as you take a moment to actually look at who it is that the general is walking with. Your eyes widen as you realize that you recognize the face of the woman and man standing next to him.

“Commander, this is-”

“General Leia Organa, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first. I just wouldn’t have thought that- Why are you here? If you don’t mind me asking that is,” you add the last bit hastily.

General Organa gives you a tired but kind smile before speaking, “We ran into some trouble with the First Order. Our base was destroyed, and we lost many people.” A couple of heads in the small crowd bow at her words. “We’ve been trying to recoup ever since. A couple weeks ago we caught word of another small rebellion and decided that it be best for us both to join together.”

“From there she got into contact with me,” General Gehrig takes over, “and I couldn’t have agreed more. They’ll be on base with us from here on out. I will be working as partners with General Organa, and you will be as well with her flight commander.”

You nod briskly before turning your eyes to the other face you recognized in the crowd.

“Commander Poe Dameron, I presume?” You stick out your hand for him to shake.

He raises his eyebrows with a grin as he grasps your hand to shake in return. “You presume correctly.” A small white and orange droid at his leg suddenly makes a series of beeps and bumps Poe’s leg. He turns down to the droid and says with a laugh, “Yes, I’ll introduce you too.” He pats the droid on the head before turning back to you. “This,” he gestures to the droid, “is BB-8. Now, I like to call myself a gentleman, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name…” His voice trails off and you fill your name in for him. He repeats it back to you once, rolling each syllable off his tongue slowly before grinning once again. “I look forward to working with you.”

Before you have the chance to respond, General Gehrig is calling your attention again. “I’ll be showing General Organa and the rest of her people around the compound. I suggest you do with same with Commander Dameron. Seeing as that you’ll be working and flying together quite often, it’s best you get to know each other.”

You nod once more to General Gehrig before he sets off again, leaving just you, Poe and his droid behind.

“So, may I ask how you already knew my name?” Facing Poe, you find his words matched with an easy-going grin and warm brown eyes framed by stay curls of black hair that fall softly on his forehead.

If you let yourself dwell on it, you almost would have thought he looked handsome in the moment.

“Really?” Your eyebrows jump on your forehead, and you can’t help the small laugh that bursts its way out of you. “Does ‘watching over the skies and stars’ ring any bells to you? Your face is plastered on every resistance poster in circulation right now.”

A small blush works its way onto Poe’s cheeks, and his hand comes up to scratch embarrassedly at the back of his head. “Oh, right. I forgot about that.”

“Well, the rest of the galaxy sure hasn’t. Now come on, I believe I’ve been tasked with showing you around our little compound.” An easy grin slips on your face as Poe falls into step beside you, BB-8 rolling just behind. You show him everything from the training rooms to the common room while he asks a few questions about the compound itself.

“Why Mandalore?”

“Easy. We wanted somewhere out of the Empire’s eyes, so the Outer Rim was an obvious first choice. Mandalore was already stripped down to the desert it is now by the Old Republic’s war with the Jedi, so we knew the First Order wouldn’t bother with it - the planet has nothing to offer anymore. The local people are either retired warriors or First Order opposers, so recruitment was high, and the people are more than willing to help should we choose to call on them. It just made sense.”

Poe nodded to your answer, a hum of approval sounding from his throat. “How long have  _you_  been here?”

“Six years. My original plan was to join  _your_  resistance, but I never ended up finding where you were hiding out before you were already packed up and gone. Eventually, I met Gehrig, and this rebellion just made sense.”

“What made you want to join?”

Your step faltered slightly, but luckily, Poe didn’t seem to notice. “Just trying to do right by myself is all. We’ve all seen what the First Order can do, and I’m not keen on just letting them keep on doing it.”

You turn a corner and find yourself in the barracks hall.“Have the generals given you any word to what room you’ve been assigned?”

“Not yet, but General Organa told me that she’d send my room assignment to my datapad.” Poe quickly pulls out the aforementioned pad and checks to see that the general has sent him his room assignment. He shows you the message and you immediately let out a small laugh at the room number he’s been assigned. Ironic.

Poe raises a questioning eyebrow at you, but you just shake your head. “You’ll see, Commander.” You lead him down further into the corridor, eventually stopping in front of his room.

“Now, Poe, as wonderful as it has been showing you around, I have early training tomorrow and need to get to my own room. Excuse me.”

You force yourself to hold back a grin as you take two steps backward, spin around, and open the door immediately opposite to Poe’s. You step inside of your room and hear Poe’s slight laughter ring in the hallway just before your door falls shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and the reader discover that maybe co-commanding isn't as easy as they thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two and the real fun begins!

The next few days draw by slowly. Most missions are put on hold as none are extremely pressing, and all efforts are put to acclimating to the change in base personnel - for both Organa’s people and yours. The pilots took the days to train. Since nearly all the resistance’s ships were destroyed during their run-in with the First Order, you were tasked with assigning all available X-wings to new pilots. From there, you all took to flight, each pilot learning how the new members they will share the sky with work. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a rhythm with Poe’s people, easily meshing well with all the crew in the skies and even finding a nice rapport between a couple of the pilots. Your co-commander, of course, meshes with your people just as well, easily winning over your people’s friendship and trust. You spend days with Poe reviewing everyone’s specific flight style and skill, putting together new flight crews, but somewhere between strategy and planning you find yourself laughing at the quick wit that falls off Poe’s lips – himself finding a warm joy in the sound of your laughter. He was good company.

Little did either of you know that your sweet comradery would soon come to a swift end.

“Commander, the generals want to see you in the command center.” You pull your head out of where you were previously tinkering with your X-wing to see who had spoken. You notice a girl a few years younger than you, her blonde hair pulled into two high buns on her head. You realize that you don’t know her name. She must be from General Organa’s resistance.

You nod to her before wiping your grease-covered hands on a nearby rag. “Let’s be on our way then. We wouldn't want to keep them waiting.”

“I’m Lieutenant Connix, by the way,” she supplies her name as you begin your walk into the main building.

You supply your name in return.

“Thank you for opening your base to us. We’ve been in pretty bad shape since the attack, so it’s nice to finally have a little stability again. It seems like everyone from both groups is getting along well.”

“No need for a thank you. We’re all fighting the same war, so as far as I see it, we were always working together – now it’s just more close contact. Besides, I  _definitely_  don’t mind having the extra hands around base.”

The lieutenant lets out a short laugh as you both enter the command center.

“Commander, come,” General Gehrig waves you over to the main table where you see General Organa and Commander Dameron already waiting for you. “We’ve received word of increased First Order presence on Garel and have reason to believe there will be an attack in the next coming days.”

“Commander Dameron,” General Organa picks up, “has informed us that you’ve worked out all of the flight crews, correct?” You nod in affirmation. “I’ll need the names and information of every member in each crew, but for now, it’s your pick who goes to Garel. You know the pilots best, and it’s only right you take charge as the acting senior commander, seeing as that we’ve now joined  _your_  base. So, what will it be?”

“How many crews will be sent? How big of an attack are we to be expecting?” You ask, weighing each crew carefully for consideration.

“Garel is a small planet, so they have no reason to send a large fleet. They’ve no reason to expect us. I’d say three crews should be fine,” General Gehrig supplies.

You pause for a moment, running over each crew in your head, before giving your decision. “I say we take four. If the Order has no reason to expect us, we’d better not blow the opportunity by not having enough firepower. My crew, Atlas Squadron, will run point, Commander Dameron’s squad, Black Squadron, will lead after us. The Blue and Red Squadrons, headed by Leader Tadia Anin and Dralin Blackmoor respectively, will follow behind.”

Your eyes shift to each of the three faces at the table. Each seems to mull your words over before nodding their agreement to your plan.

“Very well then. Let the teams know of the mission and that they should be ready to fly at a moment’s notice.”

* * *

 

It’s a short four days later when the base’s alarms go off, and you find yourself sprinting to the hangar, only throwing your orange flight suit on when you get there. Climbing into your X-wing, you quickly start your engines, pull your helmet on, and flip your communications switch up.

“Alright, Atlas Leader coming in and ready for takeoff. How are we looking, team?”

“Atlas One, here.”

“Atlas Two, ready.”

“Atlas Three, ready.”

“Atlas Four, here.”

“Atlas Five, ready.”

“Atlas Six, ready. On your go, Commander.”

You check in with the Black, Blue, and Read Leaders to make sure they’re prepared for takeoff before giving your go. The twenty-four X-wings take to the sky in quick succession before all jumping to hyperspace. The stars blur to striking white lines that fly past your ship, and your heartbeat picks up speed. A grin breaks out across your face as you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline run through your system.  _This_  is why you chose to be a pilot.

Giving the command to come out of hyperdrive, you are immediately thrust into action. Commander Gehrig was right - there was only a small armada attacking Garel. You quickly take in the number and layout of the First Order ships before handing out orders to the squadrons.

You receive confirmation from the teams when the Order takes notice of you. Scores of TIE fighters come streaming out of an Imperial Freighter, each aiming for you and your team. You jump into action. You jet across the skies, dodging the fire from the TIEs trailing you. Gritting your teeth, you plunge your ship downwards, watching as the fighters nosedive after you. You pull up on your control wheel, gracefully pulling your dive into an aerobatic somersault. The TIEs, however, don’t think as fast and the fighters previously shooting at you now find themselves on the other end of fire. Aiming your blasters, you let loose a series of shots and watch as the group of TIEs goes up in a blaze. You fly through the debris, already setting your sights on your next target.

First Order ships go up in flames across the battlefield, and you can already feel the grin breaking through your usually solemn face. You can practically feel the victory in your bones already.

That’s when the battlecruisers appear. Large. Dangerous. Ominous. Three in total. Just one would have been a force to be reckoned with, but your four squadrons are no match for three Praetor-Class Battlecruisers. The  _almost_  smile slips off your face so fast that you wonder for a moment if it was ever there at all.

“Calling all flight teams, three battlecruisers joining the field.  _All groups retreat. Repeat, all groups retreat!_ ”

“What?” Poe’s voice is incredulous in your ear. “ _Retreat?_  We have the chance to take down three battlecruisers, and you want to  _run_?”

You blow a frustrated breath of air out of your nose before answering him. “We’re not  _running_. We’re-”

“You’re right, we’re not running.” Something about the finality of Poe’s voice fills your body with dread. “All units on my command. Red Squadron, you go for power reserves. If we can stop them in their place, we have the offensive ground. Me and Black Squadron will focus on the cruisers’ blasters. The faster we take those out, the faster we can take those ships down. Blue Squadron, you keep those TIEs off our tails. Atlas, it seems, is running away.” There is a bite to Poe’s words that makes you clench your jaw.

_What the hell does he think he’s doing?_

“Wait, so what’s the plan?” You hear Tadia’s strained and confused voice ask.

“The plan is to ret-”

“Take down those battlecruisers!”

You’re barely containing your seething anger as you snap out, “Black Leader,  _stand down_! You’re directly disobeying orders!”

There is a bitter laugh that meets your ears. “Senior commander or not, I’m not following orders that have us running away from a chance like this. I won’t let you waste this opportunity because the going got a little tough.”

“I’m not wasting any opportunity-”

“You sure? Because it doesn’t look that way to me.”

“You’re not the one giving orders here.”

“Well, evidently I should be.”

Your hands are gripping your control wheel with white knuckles. You don’t even bother responding to Poe because the only sound that would come out of your mouth would be your frustrated scream.

The bickering between you and your fellow commander seems to surprise and confuse your team as well, half of them following Poe’s orders and half pulling out of the battle. For those pulling out, you assure them they are correct, telling them to jump to hyperdrive and get back to base as soon as it’s safe for them. You, against your desires, stay back to help with the cruisers. You’ve always believed in staying with your pilots to protect them no matter the circumstances. This is no exception.

You take up the Blue Squadron’s orders, taking down TIE fighters and watching out for the Red and Black units. The battlefield is a mess. Debris from the destruction and increased blasts from both the TIEs and the three battlecruisers means that most of your attention is focused purely on weaving through the mess and keeping your X-wing upright.

Not all the remaining pilots are so lucky. You veer past TIE parts when your eyes catch Blue Three with two TIEs on him. You surge forward, firing at one of the TIEs, but you don’t have time to take down the other as it fires a blast straight at Blue Three’s engine.

The ship explodes into a million oranges and reds before you even have a chance to say  _watch out_.

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. You think that you may be sick when you get back to base, but you force the intrusive thoughts away and keep your horror at bay for the moment. You’ve lost one pilot, but you’ll be damned if they take anymore without a fight.

Somewhere within the rushing of your ears, you register the cheering coming through the comm. Red Five is celebrating. She got the first cruiser’s power supply off. You try not to think too hard about the implications of her comm cutting off mid-laugh.

You’re not sure what happens after that. Some part of you reverts back to your first years of being a pilot. You’re numb. Your eyes are cold and calculating as you scope out the field. You mercilessly take out TIEs, but you feel no joy from their downfall. You’ve removed yourself from the situation, your emotions taking on the role of a mere third-party spectator. Your world is silent. You see enemies and friends alike scattered on the battlefield in varying levels of disaster. You don’t bat an eye.

It’s Poe’s voice that snaps you out of your trance. “Shit, we’re losing too much ground. All units retreat immediately!” Your emotions come back like a tidal wave. Angry. Violent. Overpowering.

Painful. Mournful. Dread.

* * *

 

“ _What in the blue hell do you think you were doing out there, Dameron!_ ” Your helmet is thrown off and you are marching up to Poe before your engines have even fully shut down. You are  _livid_.

“I would have been taken down three cruisers, but you decided to send half of our power back to base!” Poe’s voice is just as angry as yours.

“No, what you’re  _doing_ ,” you jab an accusatory finger at his chest, “is being reckless and getting people killed. You  _directly disobeyed_  my orders and even went on to dish out your own!”

“Last time I checked, we were both flight commanders and therefore have the same power.”

“Last time  _I_  checked, the generals said  _I_  take the lead on this one and for good reason too! Who knows how many pilots wouldn’t have made it back alive if you were giving all the orders.”

“You’re really blaming me?” He is taken aback by your words “We could have had those cruisers down in no time if I had more support! You left us with less than fifteen pilots to take down three cruisers! You’re more to blame here than me!” Poe’s voice has raised to nearly a screaming pitch.

The fury between the two of you makes yours do the same.

“You don’t know if having the full twenty-four would have changed the outcome. Just as many, if not more would have died in the process! But you know what? No, you’re right. I’m so sorry for ruining your little show.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. “Congrats! You disabled a battlecruiser and  _maybe_  killed a couple of troopers inside, but guess what?  _That doesn’t matter_. The Empire can make more ships and recruit more soldiers and it’s like nothing ever happened, but us? We can’t just make more X-wings or recruit more people at the drop of a hat - especially if one of our ‘commanders’ is willing to kill them off just as quickly. You destroyed  _eight_  of our ships, and your orders killed  _eight_  of our pilots. We don’t have the means to take those kinds of risks!” You pause for a breath before dropping your voice to a deadly whisper. “War isn’t all about the short game, Dameron. War is playing your cards right and making sure that what we do now ensures victory in the future, but I guess some of us are too preoccupied with our titles and being considered a hero to realize that. Maybe that’s why what’s left of your resistance is here with my people on my base. You’ve already destroyed yours.”

It was a low blow, and you knew it, and judging by the look on Poe’s face, he knew it too. You know that under normal circumstances you would never even think of saying something like that, but right now the pain of losing your friends is too fresh, too raw, so you let your anger take control.

You don’t even wait for Poe to say another word before you’re shoving past him and out of the hangar.

* * *

 

Your debrief goes about as well as you thought it would - that being not well at all. To say General Gehrig was angry would be a gross understatement.

“We lost over a squadron of ships and pilots under  _your_  watch. We’ve never taken such heavy loss in a single battle, and what changed this time? You and Commander Dameron decided to have a fight over power superiority in the middle of the battlefield!” General Gehrig rips into you, his words making you want to curl in on yourself and disappear completely.

You force yourself to stand straight.

“General, I tried-”

“No,” there is a dangerous edge to Gehrig’s words, “you let those pilots fly with unclear, quarrelsome orders that left them alone in open water. I’ve never seen you so unprofessional and  _messy_  and look what happened as an outcome. I suggest you get whatever it is between you and Commander Dameron out of your system before you make this kind of behavior a habit.”

“Yes, general.” You nod and give a quick salute before Gehrig waves you out.

Stepping out of the command center, your shoulders drop, posture slouching, and release a heavy breath from your lips. All the grief and weight of the battle suddenly falls on you. You’ve never felt so exhausted. All you want to do is sleep. You haven’t eaten since the battle, and you’re sure you should eat, but that can come later. For now, your feet lead you to your cabin, the pull of sleep too strong to refuse.

Approaching your door, you see none other but Commander Dameron leaving his room. You narrow your eyes. The general may have told you to clear the air with Dameron, but you can’t help but feel resentment against the man. After all, had he not gone against your orders, none of this would have happened in the first place.

The look he shoots you shows that he feels just as much disdain for you as you do him. You pass by each other in silence, each of you boiling in your own sharp anger, but before you can open your door, you hear General Gehrig’s tirade again and the pull of responsibility is too strong for you to ignore. You sigh.  _Damn, you, always having to do the right thing._

“Dameron,” you call out before he gets too far away, “we need to talk.”

He turns to your voice. He looks bored by your words. “What is there to talk about, commander?”

His voice is cold, and you feel a quick stab of irritation before taking a deep, calming breath. “What happened on the battlefield today. We can’t let that happen again. Whatever this is between us-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but what do you expect to accomplish here?” he asks with venom.

“We can’t just keep clashing like this. It’s unfair to our pilots and will do nothing but cause more loss. I’m not asking to be best friends, but we need to at least take a step back and let ourselves be professional about all of this.” You find yourself mirroring the general’s words.

Poe takes a step towards you, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ll agree to leave my emotions out of the cockpit for the sake of my pilots, but don’t expect me to ignore what you said on the tarmac out there. I don’t take lightly to your claims about me and my resistance, so as far as you and I are concerned, outside of those X-wings, the only thing I hold for you is contempt, and don’t expect me to act otherwise.”

You grit your teeth at his words. The irritation you felt previous has returned, only now it’s a constant grate on your self-control. “I wouldn’t expect anything else, commander.” There is a noticeable forced politeness in your tone. “If we’re done here, I’ll be on my way.”

Poe gives you a loathsome once over before turning again to face away from you. “All the better I will be then.”

You physically bite your tongue to keep yourself from lashing out at him, instead, letting your hands ball into fists at your side to keep your anger at bay. You stiffly turn to your door, angrily punching in your code before stepping in and shutting the door behind you. You feel your anger slowly ebb away as you crawl into your bed, gladly letting sleep take you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader meets Finn, and it seems that Poe has no problems telling how he feels about his new co-commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, problems, and a little more Tadia bc we love Tadia

You don’t see Poe until two days later.

You managed to avoid him the first day after the mission on Garel, hiding away in your room to readjust flight arrangements. Pilots needed to be moved to fill the losses on Garel, and you took it upon yourself do it. Unfortunately, the ability to avoid Poe on day two was taken out of your hands.

In addition to flight training, pilots had mandatory combat training as well in case of situations requiring hand to hand. It’s your fleet’s scheduled day, and you’re brusquely walking to the training room, already a few minutes late – you were caught up in reading an old mission report, not noticing the time. Arriving to the training room, you are met with the familiar smell of sweat and stale air. Your favorite.

Taking quick inventory of the room, you see that all the pilots – minus yourself – have already arrived and begun sparring with a partner. Your eyes search for Tadia, your usual partner, but find that due to your tardiness, she’s already paired with someone else.

_Well, now who am I supposed to pair with?_

A shock of curly black hair and stupidly deep brown eyes fills your view.

_Oh Maker. Please don’t tell me that-_

“Looks like we’ll be partners today.” You want to groan in objection, and Poe looks about as happy with the arrangement as you are.

Regardless, you place yourself on the blue sparring mat, Poe facing you. You both get into a ready position before you nod to him, silently telling him you’re ready. He returns the movement.

You circle around each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move. It’s Poe that lunges first. He aims a punch for your left side, but you quickly dodge the blow, instead landing an elbow to his shoulder. He lets out a grunt before going for another blow to the abdomen, Again, you dodge and land another hit on him. He goes for another punch, and with a third attack not making contact, you know something is up.

“You’re pulling your punches,” you say through gritted teeth. “Quit it.”

“Listen, I can’t stand you, but I’m not an asshole. I’m not about to throw a full fist at your face.”

“You’re an asshole for  _not_  throwing a full fist at my face. When we’re out there fighting the Order, they won’t be pulling punches, so don’t do it here either.”

Poe grunts, but gets back into a ready position. You do the same.

This time, it’s you who makes the first move, sending a hurtling elbow towards his jaw. He quickly dodges it and returns the favor, sending his fist into your stomach.  _Hard_. You quickly regain the breath he knocked out of you. Strangely, you smile.

“Better.”

Poe raises an eyebrow at you, and with that motion, you notice his shoulder drop slightly.  _Off guard_. You quickly send an open palm towards the center of his chest, knocking him back and off guard long enough for you to pull your leg high, kicking him square in the chest and knocking him to the ground with a hard thud. Wasting no time, you throw yourself on top of him, your hips crashing onto his, pressing all your weight down to keep him in place. Your hands speed for his wrists, grabbing them to pin above his head.

Due to the difference in height, your body stretches out to pin his arms, leaving your face hovering above his. You send him a cocky smile.

“Pinned. “

His face leans up close to yours, his smug grin challenging yours.

“You forgot one thing, sweetheart.” The nickname is mocking, and you know it. You narrow your eyes.

“And what is that?”

Just then, his hips are bucking forward. Due to the stretch you were in to pin his arms, your weight is unbalanced, and his sudden movement sends you flying off him. You land on your stomach and try to roll onto your back to get up, but he’s on you before you get the chance. His knee lands on the center of your back, pinning your torso to the ground. His hands grab your wrists now, pulling them behind you and sending your back into a painful arch.

“Never get comfortable.”

He releases your arms and picks himself up from off you. You let out a small groan before pulling yourself back to your feet as well.

Poe sends you a bored look that screams  _are we done here?_

He must have been expecting you to call in quits because when you set your jaw and get back into a fighting stance, he looks a bit surprised.  _Impressed_  even. Whatever the look is, he covers quickly and gets into position as well.

Round two goes much better than round one. You manage to get him pinned –  _really_  pinned this time – and he’s not at all happy.

“That was a dirty shot, and you know it!”

Normally you would fight back against such accusations, but you know he’s right. You’d faked real injury, drawing him out of fight mode, only to send an elbow into his face and a swift kick to the knees bringing him down. It  _was_  a cheap shot.

You send him a shrug of your shoulders. “Half of the people I’ll end up fighting are two, sometimes  _three_  times my size. Fair fights don’t work in my favor, so I change the odds.”

He sends you a glare, but your brush it off and get up from where you had him pinned. He gets to his feet as well.

 _Round 3_.

* * *

 

The next time you fly with Dameron is a week later, and it’s as if the conversation in the hallway after Garel never happened. You’re left arguing again, making an already hectic battle even more confusing for the pilots having to listen to the ever-contradicting commands coming from you and Poe. With a flurry of messy orders and cruel words courtesy of you and Poe, your fleet eventually lands back on base.

After another scalding reprimand from General Gehrig, you were to set up a private comm line between you and Poe to keep your arguments out of the other pilots’ ears. You hate to think of any form of  _anything_  that has you in direct contact with Poe and Poe only, but you follow Gehrig’s commands anyway – better to do as asked than risk punishment for not.

“You know, we wouldn’t have to be doing this is you just listened to me instead of being – what were the Gehrig’s words?  _A petulant child_?” Poe’s voice is irritated (or in your opinion,  _irritating_ ).

You were glad to set the comm up yourself, but one glance at you in his ship and Poe nearly popped a vein screaming all kinds of obscenities. The gist of it all was that, apparently, you were  _evil_  and therefore  _couldn’t be trusted_  to be in his ship. So, instead of setting up the comm alone and in peace, you were stuck with Poe in the hangar, the tops open on your ships as you both searched for an open line.

“First off, it was child _ren_  – plural – meaning you’re just as much to blame in this as I am, Dameron. Second off, why should I be the one listening to you? You should be the one listening to  _me_.”

“Oh please, if we all listened to you we’d all be hiding in the base because ‘confrontation is too much of a risk.’” His overly high-pitched mocking of your voice makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Three more verbal spats later, you find an open line that works for both ships. You test the line through your helmets briefly before calling it good enough and finally getting the hell away from Poe.

You use the line next mission, switching over from the main line to the private one when words between you and Poe began to get volatile, and  _wow_. You’re surprised the line didn’t up and shut down with the amount of venom being transmitted from both sides. Apparently, your tongues were a bit looser with harsh words without the other pilots’ listening ears, but for what it’s worth, the private line helped. Gehrig was right – the pilots were more focused without the constant arguing of their commanders in their ears. Don’t be fooled, the mission by no means went  _well_ , but it went better than normal and that had to count for something.

Your life fell into a strange monotony after that. Weeks drew by with days looking essentially the same. Wake up. Eat. Train. See Poe. Get angry. Sleep. Wake up. Eat. Fly. Speak to Poe. Get Angry. Sleep. Wake up. Eat…

It was truly sad when the most excitement you’d had in a long time came from a – maximum – twenty-minute interaction.

You had received a new assignment. It was a simple job – nothing more than a supply run. The basicness of it left no need for a formal meeting with the generals to discuss, instead sending the assignment details to your datapad for you to read. Walking through the halls toward your room that, you read through the brief when you feel your body clash with another, sending your datapad out of your hand and your body tumbling to the ground.

Little did you know, but the body you bumped into was none other than Finn. Finn, the resident best friend of Commander Dameron, recognized you immediately. Of course, Poe had spouted off to Finn about you many times, even taking the chance to point you out once in the canteen. Having only heard the most horrendous things about you, it was only natural that Finn moves to spit out some cold remark about watching where you’re going, but before he could, a noise disarmed him.

Laughing.

There on the ground, you turned your body onto your back and began to laugh. It was a bright, light, pleasant sound that was the exact opposite of what he had been expecting. You slowly pick yourself back up, offering Finn a bashful look as you apologize.

“I’m so sorry. I must have been too caught up in reading to realize there was someone else in the hallway. That was my bad, I’m sorry.” You can feel the tips of your ears turn a shade of pink at your own embarrassment.

Finn is quiet for a moment, completely confused. The you standing in front of him now, blushing embarrassedly and apologizing profusely for bumping into him, is not at all the image of you Poe had been painting in his head for weeks now.

“Oh, it’s- uh- no problem. I guess I wasn’t really paying attention either.” Finn bends down to grab your datapad from where it fell on the floor. “I believe this is yours?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you so much! You shouldn’t have worried about it - I could have gotten it. I mean I was the reason that it, and I, fell down there anyway,” you laugh lightly. You pause for a moment before speaking again. “You’re Finn, right?”

“Yeah, how did you…?” he trails off.

“You’re around Commander Dameron a lot so I’ve picked up the name in conversation here and there.” You offer your name and hesitate for a long moment. “You… You were a trooper, right? You defected from the Order?”

A dark shadow crosses over Finn’s face, his head bowing and eyes cast to the ground.

You lightly touch his arm, pulling him away from whatever thought was plaguing him. Your voice is soft when you speak, “I just wanted to say that you're very brave for what you did. Escaping the First Order couldn't have been easy, but you did it anyway. Now you’re here fighting with us, and I just…” you trail off, searching for your words. “Thank you.”

Finn’s brows furrow slightly. “What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know… making the right choice? For not letting yourself stay their pawn. For believing in yourself and this resistance enough to join us and help fight against what they were forcing you to be. All of it, I guess,” you finish of timidly.

“You know, you’re nothing at all like Poe described you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words. “What?”

“Yeah, you’re not exactly the ‘gut-less ice queen’ with ‘less of a heart than the Empire’ that I was expecting.”

Despite yourself, you let out a loud, bright laugh at Finn’s words. “Well, I’m glad you don’t think so.”

The two of you chat for a bit more, and you find that he is much easier to get along with than his pigheaded best friend. You eventually have to excuse yourself from him to finish reading up on your assignment, but you part ways with a nice feeling of having made what you hope will be a good friend.

You don’t see Finn until a couple of days later. You’re searching for a table in the canteen with Tadia by your side. You don’t even notice he’s there until he stands and calls your name. Bright smile on his lips, he waves to you and calls you over. You smile and wave back, moving towards him, but upon seeing Poe seated next to Finn, you decide against it. You incline your head towards Poe (who looks completely betrayed by his friend’s friendliness to you) and shrug your shoulders towards Finn in apology. He seems to get the message because he smiles softly and sits back down.

“I didn’t know you and Finn knew each other,” Tadia says next to you.

“Not all that well,” you answer nonchalantly. You begin moving towards a vacant table on the side of the canteen. “I bumped into him in the hall the other day, and we just got to talking.”

“About?”

“I thanked him for defecting – told him that what he did was brave and that I admire his will.” The two of you reach the empty table, sitting down side by side. Tadia looks at you with understanding eyes.

“Finn’s a good guy,” she agrees.

“You know each other?”

“Not all that well,” she mimics your words from earlier. “I’ve started doing some extra training with one of their people, Rey. Finn comes around here and there. He’s sweet.”

“It’s amazing, really. I mean, how can someone as nice as Finn get along so well with someone as deplorable as Poe Dameron?”

“Will you and Poe ever not absolutely hate each other?”

“Only when he stops being a complete pain in my ass.”

“So never then?” Tadia laughs.

“Seems like it.”

“Oh come on, don’t you think it’s time you both lay it to rest? You’ve been working together for three months now just fine.”

“Correction, we save face while working together now. Don’t worry, our private comm line is just as angry and vulgar as it was when we first met.”

“If I remember correctly, and I tend to, you and Poe got along well when you first met.  _Very well_ , actually. I was worried for a moment that he was encroaching on my best friend territory.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud. “Oh maker no, never in a million years.”

“Never say never.” Tadia gives you a pointed look that you don’t even want to try and decipher. “The two of you got on perfectly well up until that first mission. Ever since then it’s been nothing but you two acting like angry children.” You find it both humorous and annoying how Tadia’s words mirror General Gehrig’s.

“I don’t act like a child! He’s the child here! Always wanting to rush into action without thinking about the outcomes and being angry when I call him out on it.”

“Oh yes, pout and play the blame game. You’re right, you’re not acting like a child at all either,” she says, her voice showing her sarcasm.

You grumble under your breath when you find that you have no adequate response. You let the topic die.

You mull over Tadia’s words as you tinker with your ship the next day. You want to swear up and down that she’s wrong, but a very small, very traitorous part of your mind knows that her words hold truth. You sigh as you pull your head out of the hull of your ship. You take a moment to let your eyes wander across the hangar, eventually landing on Poe’s X-wing. He’d recently painted it a god awful black and orange, and it’s been an eyesore for you ever since. You glare at the ship but then notice the dents and scratches on the outer hull.

He took a bad hit or two the last time you were called out and judging by the look of the ship, no mechanic has been over to fix it yet. You bite your lip for a moment. You could fix it… You’ve fixed your own ship enough times to know the mechanics of the craft, and it would take a little of the load off the surely already work bogged mechanics. You bat the idea around for a bit before just saying  _screw it_. You hop down from your ship and make your way to his.

Just by looking at the ship you can tell there will be a couple of problems, but upon starting the engines, you can tell the problems run deeper than you thought. Leaving the engine running, you hop out of the cockpit to open the main engine panel. You see the problem immediately. The equilibrium sensor is fried, one of the hypergol manifolds is bent, and the oscillation block is missing completely. Not the easiest of repairs to make, but nothing you haven’t already broken and fixed yourself on your own ship. You shut off the engine, grab the necessary tools and parts for the repairs, and get to work.

You’re still working a couple of hours later. You’re covered in oil and engine grease, but the sensor is replaced, and the manifold is once again in correct form. You’ve already gotten an oscillation block to install, but you’re dreading the actual act. Installing a block - especially without the original to refer back to - is not a quick nor easy task. Still, you double down and stick your upper body back into the space of the engine block. The odd placement of the oscillation block on this engine forces you to contort your body a bit to get into the right position to begin working. Radial hand lathe in your grasp, you begin stripping away some of the surface level parts to get to where the block needs to go. You’re so focused on your work that you are caught entirely too off guard by Poe’s voice.

“What are you doing to my ship!” His angry voice startles you, and in your surprise, you drop the lathe. You don’t think quick enough to dodge the tool as it falls towards your other hand, though, and the tool sears through your skin. You let out a string of stiff, pained curses and notice the blood immediately gushing out of the wound.

“I was trying to fix it,” you snap as you crawl your way back out of the engine block.

“Since when does ‘fixing’ entail stripping out half of the engine parts?”

“Since your oscillation block is missing. I know we hate each other and all, but I’m not trying to have you nosedive in the middle of a battle. You may be bull-headed, but you’re far too good of a pilot to lose because of a mechanical issue,” you begrudgingly admit. Your eyes scan your work area for something to stop the bleeding on your hand but find that the only thing near is your already greasy rag. You don’t like it, but it’s the only thing you have right now. You grab the rag and press the fabric to your wound. The contact has you hissing in pain.

“Hey,” Poe approaches you, grabbing the rag away, “don’t do that, idiot. You’re going to get the damn thing infected.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to-” your words cut off when Poe grabs your wrist with one hand while grabbing the bottom of his shirt in the other. He pulls your hand forward and presses his clean shirt fabric to the wound.

His kindness takes you by surprise, and you find your face heating up – completely at a loss for how you’re supposed to react. “I- You- This doesn’t-”

“I believe ‘thank you’ are the words you're looking for,” Poe says. His words are frigid and unkind, but his actions are the exact opposite. He holds your hand gently and tries his best to help stop the bleeding. Poe doesn’t seem capable of actions that hold such tenderness, yet here you both are.

You roll your eyes but still offer up a quiet  _thank you_.

“Don’t get used to this.” His words are gruff.

“I wasn’t planning on it. Maker, I wasn’t even expecting your help at all.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to find you fixing my ship, so I guess we’re both a bit surprised by the other today.”

You’re not sure how to speak with Poe like this, - no real malice or anger in either of you - so you choose not to answer at all, instead letting an only slightly uncomfortable silence fall over the two of you. When the bleeding finally stops, Poe pulls away, and you breathe easy again. You don’t remember your breathing becoming shallow, but you suppose that at some point it must have had to.

You and Poe awkwardly look at each other for a moment before you break the silence.

“A bit of ammonia should get that out,” you say, nodding your head to the blood that now graces a fair bit of the bottom of Poe’s shirt.

Poe nods. “There should be a first aid kit in the cockpit of my ship. You should probably bandage that,” he says, referring to your hand.

You nod as well, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. You realize that you like it better when you and Poe were arguing. This… pleasantness is strange after so long of nothing but fighting. You’re not quite sure how to speak to him without the guise of venomous tones and cruel words.

“I should- ah- get back to this engine,” you say lamely.

Poe simply nods again before turning on his heels and striding away without a word.

Your eyes linger on his retreating form for just a second longer than normal before you turn back to his X-wing.

Poe and you don’t seem to cross paths for the next couple of days, and you’re thankful for that. In fact, the next time you see Poe is when you are rushing to the hangar, pulling on your flight suit in a hurry.

The First Order was raiding a city of civilians, and they needed help. Hopping into your X-wing, you check with your pilots before lifting into the air, quickly jumping in and out of hyperspace, arriving to the surface of the planet where the fighting is taking place. You quickly dish out orders for each squadron and begin your own task of taking down the AT-ATs that are too close to the civilian city for comfort. Taking down the armored vehicles, you rejoin your squadron and focus on shooting down whatever First Order ships you can.

The fighting continues, and despite having some close calls, the rebellion’s side is looking pretty good. Actually, you’re looking  _really_  good. The First Order ships are being taken down left and right by your own pilots, and the troopers on the ground seem to be kept at bay by the city’s own fighters. It seems that in the same moment you notice this, so does the First Order because you can see their ships starting to retreat.

“This is Atlas Leader. The First Order ships are starting to retreat!”

Cheers of the pilots start to filter through your comm but are soon cut off by Poe’s voice.

“Don’t get comfortable yet. They’re retreating, but we can’t let those ships get away. We have a chance here to do some damage. I want all units on those retreating ships. Blue and Red Squadrons, focus on those trooper transports. Nova Squadron, you take that TIE freighter. Black and Atlas, we focus on taking down that control ship. All units move!”

Your jaw clenches at Poe’s orders, and you open your private comm line.

“Black Leader, what are you doing?”

“They’re retreating. We’ve been playing the defensive for all this time, and now we finally have the chance to launch an offensive strike.”

“Black Leader, we’ve already won the day. There’s no need for risking unnecessary casualties.”

“We’re not. They’re retreating which means they know we have the upper hand. We can do this without risking anyone. We have the chance to take down two transports, a freighter, and a half dozen other First Order ships. I’m not up for negotiation on this.”

You grit your teeth. “You’re  _never_  up for negotiation. You just run head first into danger and hope all goes well.  _Pull back_.”

“And  _you_  just run away from opportunities! This is a golden chance, and I’m not letting your cowardice take that away,” Poe says with a bite.

You should have known that your one civil day in the hangar wouldn’t change anything between the two of you. People don’t change that easily.

“Black Leader,” you try but gain no response.

Then his voice flares back up in your ear, “All units respond. Atlas Leader is in agreement - all units attack those ships.”

You grip your controls tighter, anger quickly building. You most definitely did  _not_  agree to that, but you know that arguing the point any further will just confuse your pilots and earn yourself a harsh reprimand, so you clench your jaw and join the rest of the X-wings in their pursuit of the retreating ships.

* * *

 

Back on base, you hop out of your ship, his name already on the tip of your tongue.

“Dameron!” He was on the tarmac before you, BB-8 at his side. You found yourself talking to his back as he walked ahead of you. “I told you to-”

“Pull back, yeah, but guess what? My plan worked, and we didn’t even take any hits, so you can take your lecture somewhere else.” He doesn’t even turn his head to speak to you. He just continues forward, sounding perfectly bored with the conversation.

“This time maybe, but we can’t keep betting the lives of soldiers who trust us on your one in a million odds of succeeding! And you can’t just shut me out and say that I agree with your half-baked plans when I most certainly  _do not_. Your recklessness need for glory will only-”

All at once Poe whirls on you, making you stop short to keep from running straight into him.

“You know what your problem is?” The dangerous edge to his voice makes you jump. “You don’t understand war. You don’t know what goes on behind your curtain of ‘I’m playing the long game!’ You need to  _wake up_. You’re not playing the ‘long game.’ You’re  _weak_.  In war, people die, and no one can change that. Especially not some fragile little girl from Nybyki. Yeah, I’ve heard the accent, and I can see now what you are. Nybyki has never been ruled by the empire, never been invaded, never been attacked - you live in your own perfect little world outside of the First Order’s reach.

“So, let me guess, at 20 you decided you wanted some adventure in your safe little life, so you joined the rebellion because you needed more excitement? Well guess what, this may just be a bit of fun for you, but this war is real to the rest of us. I lost people I love to this war, but I know that’s just how war is. You can’t fight a war without losing people, but you don’t get that do you? Your perfect little life didn’t prepare you for this.  _You don’t know loss_. You don’t know death. You’re not cut out to fight because you’re so sheltered that you can’t handle the fact that war is  _brutal_  and  _broken_  and  _bloody_ , so maybe it’s time you put down the X-wing and went back to Nybyki. Go home and go back to making ‘pretty things’ for whatever snotty family you left behind, but don’t stay here trying to fight a battle you were and always will be too weak for.”

There was complete silence on the tarmac. The other pilots had all almost completely stopped what they were doing to just watch as Poe tore into you. You dare not look at their faces.

You knew the two of you didn’t get along, but this…

You take a step back from Poe, your eyes trained on the ground. You can’t even look at his face. You take a long, steadying deep breath. When you speak, your voice is barely above a whisper. Had the tarmac not been so quiet, you’re not sure Poe would have heard you at all.

“Thank you, Commander, for letting me know what you think of me. I appreciate the honesty.” You wish your voice didn’t sound as weak as it did, but it’s as if all the life had been zapped out of you by Poe’s words. You simply don’t have the fight in you anymore.

Before anything else could be said by anyone, you are ducking your head and silently making your way out of the tarmac. You don’t dare look up from the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was supposed to be a run of the mill flight mission goes terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action, pain, and more vague references to the past because that's as close as I can get to suspense I guess

You skip debrief that night. Passing the command center without a second thought, you headed straight to your room instead. You knew you would get hell from Gehrig, but you couldn’t face anyone after Poe’s words. You found refuge alone in your room, shutting off the lights, shuffling under your blankets, and shutting out the world.

But alas, you couldn’t hide forever. You’re up the next morning before the sun has even risen. Your brokenness from the night before is gone, replaced with nothing but sheer determination. Knowing that he would already be awake and working, you march your way to the command center in search of one man.

“General Gehrig,” you call as you enter the command center, shutting the door behind you. It’s only you and the general in the room.

“Commander,” his voice is surprised, but he quickly recovers, and restrained anger takes its place, “why were you not here for debrief yesterday? You know protocol!”

You ignore his words. “General, I am requesting a change in my squadron’s assigned fleet.”

This  _really_  takes Gehrig by surprise. “You’re asking to leave the fleet that  _you_  created? That’s going to take a lot of adjustment-”

“I have already worked out all of the necessary crew changes that will balance Atlas’ leave from Commander Dameron’s fleet. Trec Drakar and his crew, Echo Squadron, will take the place of Atlas, and vice versa. If anything, the tense relationship between my co-commander and I has made this change long overdue.”

Maybe it’s the set of your jaw, maybe it’s the sternness of your eyes, or maybe it’s General Gehrig knowing you so long that he can read what lies between the lines of your words, but he nods his head at your request. “Have the new fleet arrangements in my hands by evening today and notify the affected squadrons immediately.”

“Yes, general.” You move to leave the command center, but a very soft call of your first name from Gehrig has you stopping short.

He hasn’t called you so casually by your name since you met him back on Jakku. You turn to face him and are again shocked by the softness in his eyes. Since your meeting with him, Gehrig has become somewhat of a father to you, albeit a stern and unyielding one, but ever since this base was created and your little resistance became more than just the two of you, moments like this from him had become extremely rare. “I don’t know the whole story, but I’ve heard whispers. This wouldn’t have to do with what Dameron said yesterday, would it?”

“As if I would ever let whatever that man says affect me.”

You can tell by the way his face softens more that he sees right through your lie, but he plays along anyway. “Very well, but in any sense, don’t pay his words any mind. You know who you are and what brought you’re here.”

You give a tight-lipped smile in response to his words before turning your back to him again. “Have a nice day, general.”

The flight change takes effect immediately, and you are blessed that the change keeps you from seeing Dameron almost completely. With the new fleets, you are always on missions at different times, meaning that it’s not very often the two of you are even on base together. The only downside to this is that Tadia and Blue Squadron are still in Dameron’s fleet which means that your time with Tadia is also nearly nonexistent.

Finn is more than glad to keep you company in these days, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything but politely decline his offers for companionship. You feel bad every time his face drops when you excuse yourself from him, but you can’t help but feel the sting of Dameron’s words every time you look at Finn. You know they are different people and that Finn might not think the same about you as his best friend, but you’d rather protect yourself in case his beliefs do line more closely with his best friend’s than you’d like to think.

So, you end up spending most of your days tinkering with ships and running strategies alone. Your new fleet works well together, and you get on well with all of the pilots, but you’re simply not as close with them as you were your last crew. The days pass by slowly, but eventually, the galaxy falls quiet, and no new ships are sent out for days.

Somewhere within those quiet days, Dameron’s fleet returned from whatever mission they were sent on. Back on base together, you dread the idea of having to face Dameron, but having Tadia’s friendship back takes a bit of the edge off. They’re on base for nearly a week before you run into Dameron for the first time.

You’re grabbing dinner with Tadia one night, searching for a table to sit when your eyes catch Finn’s. Dameron is sitting right next to him. You blanch and quickly pull Tadia to the other side of the canteen, not even bothering to hide your haste.

Quickly throwing yourself into a seat facing away from the two men and ducking your head, you hear Tadia sigh as she takes the seat opposite of you.

“You can’t just hide from Poe and his people forever. I know you’re mad at what he said, and rightfully so, but you have to stop this. I was livid when he said what he did too, but you’re letting it hollow you out. You shouldn’t forgive him by any means, but you made yourself change fleets – the fleet that you loved – just to get away from him. You can’t let him hold this kind of power over you.”

“He doesn’t have any power over me.”

“Really?” Tadia raises an eyebrow at you. “Because you just sprinted across the room to get away from him after just seeing his face. God forbid what would have happened had he actually looked back. Look, what he said - he was all wrong-”

“But what if he wasn’t.” You don’t look up from your tray as the words slip from your lips.

“What? Half of the base knows what happened on Nybyki. Of course he’s wrong.”

You run an exasperated hand through your hair. You really didn’t mean for this conversation to happen here. “Not about that. I meant about-”

Before you can finish your thought, your new fleets alarm is suddenly blaring, calling you to the tarmac. You’re up in a second, rushing to the canteen doors, only hearing Tadia’s call of  _be safe_  when you’re halfway out the door.

You suit up, get in your X-wing and before you can even blink, you’re high in the skies with your fleet, stars turning to streaks as you jump to hyperspace. When you approach the coordinates given to you by command, you pull out of hyperspace and head for the large moon where a distress signal came from. Upon breaking through the dense, cloudy atmosphere of the moon, you are surprised to find the area completely calm. The surface of the moon is covered in thick jungle, making it difficult for you to see if there is life on this moon at all. You have a  _very_  bad feeling about this. Acting on instinct, you open your mouth to call for a return to base, but the words die on your lips when something else breaks through the clouds.

TIEs. Hundreds of them. From all directions. You’re surrounded with no way to escape.

“It’s a trap!” You frantically call into your comm. “We can’t fall back - there are too many of them to get through. Take down those fighters and do whatever you can to stay in the air! I’m calling for backup!”

You frantically flip your transmission switches, calling control and trying to dodge the incoming TIE blasts.

“Atla-” You recognize Lieutenant Connix’s voice on the end of the line, but don’t let her finish her words.

“We need backup! The distress call was a fake. I repeat  _we need backup_.”

You hear shuffling on the other end of the line before General Organa’s stern voice replaces Connix’s. “Commander, what’s the situation?”

“The distress call was a trap. There was no one here. TIEs started pouring before we could fall back. There are hundreds, and  _we need help_.”

“Copy that. We’re sending all available units to your aid. You and your pilots need to hang on until they can get there.”

“Roger that, general.”

You shut off the transmission before turning your comm back on and reporting the general’s words to the other pilots. You only pray that you all can hold out for the reinforcements.

To say that you are outnumbered is an understatement. The First Order must have grown tired of your little resurgent resistance because if they’re aiming for overkill, they’ve certainly reached it. The TIEs never stop coming. It’s like anytime you take out one of their ships, three more are there to fill the lost fighter’s place. You try your best to take out any TIE trailing your team, but you can’t be everywhere at once. You see pilots take hits – some not lucky enough to stay airborne. You manage to avoid getting anything but a quick skim of a blast, but you know that your luck is running out - and quick. You just need to hold out for the backup…

It’s likely been less than an hour when you see the resistance ships break through the atmosphere, but it may as well have been days with how overwhelmed your fleet has been trying to defend against these TIEs.

“Atlas Leader, come in. Atlas Leader are you there?” It’s Poe’s voice that calls out for you, and despite everything, you could cry at the relief that fills your body.

“Atlas Leader here.” The relief must show in your voice because Poe’s next words are soft.

“You’re alright, Atlas Leader. We’ve got two fleets here for backup and another on their way. You’re not alone anymore.”

His words aim to comfort you, and they do, but you know that you won’t really feel safe until every damn TIE in this sky is blown to bits. You double down in your seat and shift your focus back to taking down TIEs.

The two extra fleets’ help even the numbers a bit on the field, but the number of TIEs is still unnerving.

Just as that thought passes through your mind, a fighter locks onto your ship and sends out a series of shots. You barely manage to dodge all of them but are at a loss on how you can take out your attacker. He’s too close behind you to trust your blasters. The thick tree cover makes diving towards the moon’s surface a no-go. You think through your options as you dodge another shot, but suddenly the fighter behind you is blown to bits by a familiar ship.

You send a thank you to Tadia and make a mental note to watch her back closer too.

You take a moment to check your pilots, taking out any TIEs that got a bit too close for comfort. Your eyes jump to Poe’s ship to make sure he’s not being targeted. Noticing no fighters after him, you are about to pull your ship elsewhere, but it’s seconds too late for action that you catch the TIE making a direct path for Poe’s ship. Your heart drops at how the TIE doesn’t pull up on its speed as it gets closer and closer to Poe’s ship.  _It’s going to plow straight into him._

Without even thinking about what may happen, you bank your ship right towards Black Leader. He must catch your ship on a collision course with his because you hear him let out a startled curse before his ship veers abruptly out of the way.

“What the-” His words through your comm cut off as the TIE’s hull slams straight into you.

Your engine goes down immediately, and your ship takes a sharp nosedive. You have little control over the ship, but you pull up as hard as you can on your steering well, hoping to level the ship to a slow descent as much as possible. Your efforts don’t prove to help when your ship slams straight through the tree cover. Your wing must catch a thick trunk because you hear a loud snap before your ship is tilting to one side, continuing to fall but now in a nauseating spiral.

The only thing you feel when your ship finally hits the ground is excruciating pain before your whole world goes black.

You’re not sure how long you were out for - it could have been seconds, it could have been minutes, or it could have been hours - but your first thought when your eyes peel open is that you’re no longer in the sky. The second is that you’re in intense pain. Letting the blurriness fade from your eyes, the third thing you notice is the crackling of fire. All the drowsiness in your body is gone in an instant.

_If there is fire… I need to move **now**._

You unbuckle yourself from you X-wing and try to move, but a severe pain in your right leg keeps you from moving. Looking down, you find the source of your pain and immobility. In the crash, the front of your ship took some pretty bad hits, and it seems as though some of the inner mechanisms of the plane were knocked loose when the paneling began to fail. Your auxiliary axle seemed to be one such part - the pole breaking through the plane’s interior and piercing its way into the cockpit.

Right through your leg.

You tighten your jaw in an attempt to keep from screaming out. Instead, you twist yourself as best you can in your seat to check the state of the fire. It’s getting dangerously close to your gas reserves, and where fire meets gas... You  _really_  don’t have time for this. Steeling your nerves, you turn back to your leg and wrap your hands around the axle. Without giving yourself time to hesitate, you rip the object out of your leg, forcing it back into the hull of the ship where it came. You can’t stop the blood-curdling scream that forces its way through your lips this time, tears now beginning to free fall down your face.

Biting your lip, you force yourself to keep moving. The fall did a good job of knocking most of your windshield’s glass away, but there is not a hole big enough for you to drag your body out, so you reach for the blaster tucked into the side compartment of your ship. Your hand grasps but finds no blaster. It must have fallen out during your fall. Frustration and nerves building, you move to plan two. With all your force, you throw your fist against the glass. It takes a good few hits, but soon the glass gives way to spider web-like cracks, and with one more good punch, the glass is broken. You’re sure that your knuckles must be a mess of torn, bloody flesh from the glass, but you choose not to dwell on that right now.

Oh so slowly, you crawl your way out of your ship – the jagged edges of glass cutting you as you go. When your body is finally free from the X-wing, you plant your feet on the ground, but your right leg immediately collapses and leaves you falling to the ground. Taking a moment to let the pain pass, you force yourself back up, moving all your weight onto your left leg while your hand grips a nearby tree for support. You don’t give yourself a second before you are hobbling away from your ship. You know that you must have barely minutes now before that fire hits the gas and sends the whole ship sky-high. You know you need to move fast, but your right leg keeps you from making much progress at all.

You get barely forty feet away from your X-wing when the ship finally explodes. The force of it sends you flying forward, but you luckily remain conscious. By now, the pain is unbearable, but you have to keep moving. You have to find a way off this damn planet. Surging to your feet - foot - again, you make it a few more feet into the brush with the help of some trees for support. Passing a few more thick trees, your eyes spot something on the ground a couple of yards ahead of you. _Your blaster._ You surge forward suddenly, needing to get to that blaster (you have no idea what’s lurking in these jungles). Your head starts to feel fuzzy, but you push through it, finally reaching the blaster. In your attempt to reach down and grab it, a bout of dizziness hits you and your body falls forward on its own accord.

The pain is excruciating, and all you want to do is lay down, close your eyes, and sleep, but you know that’s not an option right now. Pulling your face up from the dirt, you grip the blaster in one hand and pull yourself to sit up against a tree trunk. Your eyes close briefly, head falling back to lay against the rough tree bark. Ten seconds. You’ll give yourself ten seconds of rest, but then you have to keep moving.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

You’re eyes open again. You take inventory of your leg and realize the source of your dizziness. You’re losing too much blood. Cursing to yourself, you slowly unzip and remove your flight suit (taking extra precaution when pulling your pant leg down your injured thy), revealing your regular black top and brown pants underneath. Orange flight suit now removed, you begin ripping the fabric into long shreds. Once you think you have enough fabric, you use your hands to lift your injured leg just slightly to a bent position so that you can wrap it. You grab the longest strip of orange in your hand and begin wrapping it tightly around the hole in your leg. You’re halfway through wrapping when a blaster shot suddenly hits you in the side.

You cry out and your eyes clench instinctively. You grab the blaster lying next to you and send off shot after shot into the area where the blast came from. When the world is quiet again, you open your eyes to see what’s left in the wake of your shots.

Two stormtroopers. Dead.

You’re alone again.

You continue tying your leg, finally able to tie off the fabric, but now the burn in your side calls for your attention. You strip away more of your flight suit and tie your makeshift bandage around your torso now. Tying off your second bandage, you know you have no more reason to just sit against the tree.

You force yourself to your feet. Hand braced against tree and weight supported by your left leg, you know that you need to find whatever ship those stormtroopers came in - that ship may be your only way off this moon - but the sheer force taken from just standing up has you swaying on your feet.

Your chest heaves with exhaustion, and the realization that you might die here finally hits you full force. Your free hand flies to cover your mouth as a wail forces its way up your throat. Your eyes clench shut in an attempt to stop the tears, but they come anyway, falling down your face like rivers.

_I’m going to die here._

Just then, a voice from somewhere inside of the woods calls your name. Your jump at the sound, but when the world returns to silence you brush it off as a delusion.

But then it’s there again. Someone calling your name.  _Someone came back for you_.

You scream an answer of, “I’m here! I’m here!” and then the voice is calling out to you again, more instantly and  _closer_. As the voice draws nearer and nearer, finding their way towards you from your own calls back to them, you realize you recognize the voice.  _It’s Poe_.

You’re so surprised that it’s him who is risking his life to save you that you let out a laugh through your tears, too many emotions running through you all at once. When his face finally breaks through the trees that surround you, he’s running towards you. You try to hobble towards him, and when he gets close enough, you fall right into his chest. His arms come to wrap around your back, and your arms clutch onto his shirt, face buried in his shoulder as you let your tears of fear become sobs of relief. You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to see anyone in your life.

Hearing your cries and having seen the state you’re in, one of Poe’s hands moves from your back to the back of your head, softly holding you to him as he whispers, “You’re safe now, I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay, we’re going to get you out of this. I’ve got you,” over and over into your ear.

When your hysterics have finally calmed down, Poe pulls back and cradles your face in both of his hands, warm eyes boring into yours.

“I’ve already got a medical evac on the way. They should be here any minute, but for now, you need to rest.”

You nod at his words, and he slowly helps you back to a sitting position. Once settled, Poe kneels next to you takes in all your injuries. His eyes zone in on your torso.

“What happened to your side?”

“I was... wrapping leg and… two stormtroopers… blasters…” The promise of a rescue has your exhaustion coming back full force, and you find your body giving into it. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and your eyes keep drooping until they close completely.

“Hey, no no no. Keep your eyes open. Focus on me.” One of Poe’s hands finds your face again, softly cupping your chin and pulling your face to meet his, eyes boring into yours. “Keep your eyes on mine, okay?”

You do as he says. You’re trying to fight the drowsiness, but your hazy mind has words slipping past your lips before you can register them yourself.

“Why… did you... come… save me?”

“Listen, you may be a pain in my ass,” you give a light, drowsy laugh at his words, “but I don’t let any of my people - especially ones that go down trying to save me - die. I wasn’t just going to let you go down and not do anything about it.”

You hum in response to his words, and despite your best efforts, your eyes fall shut again.

Poe’s voice his more desperate now, and he holds your chin a little more sternly. “Hey, what did we say about those eyes? You’ve got to keep them open.”

“But I’m… so… tired.” Your voice is slow and rough with exhaustion.

Poe’s voice starts to sound far away when he speaks again. “I know, but you’ve got to stay awake. You need to keep your eyes open and get back to base because I can’t apologize otherwise.”

You want to ask him what he means by that, but it’s too late. Your eyes shut, and the entire world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader deals with her post-mission injuries and the changes the mission brings to her relationship with Poe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the last chapter has me so??? Emo??? the amazing feedback from yall was AMAZING! Waking up to nice comments and messages from you guys made me so happy and wow I am unworthy of you guys' love! Thank you guys so much for interacting with me bc wow I love! ♡♡  
> Anywayyyy I'll stop being mushy and give you guys the next chapter! Hope you enjoy :)

You’re not sure how long you were out before you wake up, but you’re just glad that you do indeed  _wake up_. You’re not surprised to find that you wake in a pure white room. You’re in the medical ward on base.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” A nurse steps into the room and greets you cheerfully.

“Good morning,” you answer slowly, mind still fuzzy from the clutches of sleep. “How long was I out?”

The nurse grabs a clipboard that was hanging on the wall and begins to shuffle through the papers as she answers, “About two weeks. You were in pretty bad shape when you were brought in. It’s a miracle you’re still alive really. Now let me see your leg. I need to change your bandages.”

You do as she says, propping your leg up and pulling back the white sheet that lay over you to grant her access to your injured leg. She begins to unwrap the red-stained bandages, soon replacing them with clean ones.

“How long will I have to stay here?”

“Well, you’re healing fairly fast for all that you came in with, but until your leg is fully healed, I want to keep you off your feet - you’ve put enough strain on the injury already. All things considered, we’ll probably keep you for another few days just to be safe.” She gives you a soft smile.

Not the answer you were hoping for, but you can manage staying put for a few days... You hope.

The nurse begins to leave the room, but before she can leave, you can’t help but call out to her. You hesitate before asking the question that’s been nagging at your mind since you woke up.

“Where… Where is Commander Dameron?” You ask almost timidly.

“That’s right, I almost forgot! His fleet was called out on a mission two or three days ago, but he’s been keeping an eye on you since he brought you in. I’ll be sure to give him word that you’re awake when he gets back from his mission.”

“Oh,” the news of Poe watching over you leaves a strange, not quite pleasant yet not quite unpleasant, feeling in your chest. “Thank you.”

The nurse sends you another soft smile before leaving you alone in your room.

Having nothing else to keep you occupied, you decide that sleep is the best option. Though, you don’t get far because not long after you’ve begun to drift off does a knock at your door rouse you back to wakefulness.

Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to see General Organa. “Commander, I’m sorry to wake you, but you still need to be debriefed from your last mission. Are you okay to do it now?”

General Organa’s request comes as a surprise to you. Despite both being your general, you usually answer to General Gehrig whereas Dameron does the same with General Organa. This is the first time you’ve been debriefed by Organa.

“Yes, now is fine.” You move to sit up on the bed, trying to maintain some type of formality, but General Organa stops you.

She puts her hand on your arm, gently guiding you back to a reclined position. “No, no, you’re still injured. You need to rest. Now, whenever you’re ready.”

General Organa’s softness is strange to you. You’re so used to Gehrig’s sternness during debriefs that this tenderness takes you by surprise.

Starting from your fleet’s take off, you tell her everything - from your arrival to the moon, to your notice of the moon being vacant, to the TIEs that began to pour in from the clouds.

“That’s when I called for backup.” General Organa nods, signaling for you to continue. “My fleet tried to hold on for as long as we could, but I can’t be sure how many we lost. There were so many fighters…” Your words trail off, thinking about the ships you couldn’t save. The people you couldn’t save.

 _I’m so sorry_.

It’s the general that brings you back to reality. The touch of her hand on yours giving a comforting squeeze pulls you out of your reverie. Her eyes are soft -  _forgiving_.

“Then the backup arrived. With the extra X-wings, we were able to get a better grip on the battle. Everyone was fighting, and we were finally starting to clear the skies. That’s when I went down.”

“How did you go down?”

“I… I was watching out for the other pilots - taking out any TIEs that were targeting them. Commander Dameron had a fighter coming straight for him. It looked like it wasn’t slowing down - like it was going to plow straight into him. So, I flew at the commander. When he saw me coming for him, he banked off to avoid getting hit by my ship. Barely a second after he was out of the way, the TIE slammed straight into me. My engine went down, and I went down towards the moon’s surface.”

You told her of passing out and waking up in your X-wing, the fire, the auxiliary axle, the explosion, and the stormtroopers.

“That’s when Poe found you?”  _Poe_. The name is so casual falling from her lips.

“Uhm, yes, that’s when the commander found me. He called for a medical evac and tried to get me to stay awake until it arrived, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep, and next thing I know I’m waking up in here two weeks later.”

General Organa nods. “Alright, I think that will be all, but before I go, just one more quick thing.”

“Yes, general?”

“Go easy on him.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.  _What is she talking about?_

“Poe. I know he can be a bit brash and reckless at even the best of times, but he means well. He really cares about this resistance and its people, and it’s obvious that you do too. I know you two don’t get along - that’s plain as day - but he’s not as bad as he’s made himself out to be. His words can be misguided, but he knows when he’s wrong. So when you see him next, go easy on him.”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, but luckily for you, you don’t have to. The general is flashing a soft smile and walking out the door before you can even think of words to say.

You don’t see anyone other than your nurse until two days later. You’re lounging on your hospital bed, casually eating your administered lunch when Poe appears in the window of your room’s door. You make surprised eye contact with him as he opens the door, and when he does, you can see that he’s slightly breathless.  _Did he run here? He must have just gotten back from his mission._

There is a tense moment in the room where you simply look at each other. You are the one to break the silence.

“Commander Dameron,” you can visibly see how his body deflates at your rigid tone, “when my ship crash landed on that moon, you had every reason the believe that I was dead down there. You had absolutely no reason to go-”

“Don’t you-”

You hold up a hand to stop Poe’s frustrated outburst. “I’m not done. You had no reason to believe that I was alive. You had no reason to follow me down there to try and save me, but in your reckless nature, you did anyway,” your voice softens then, looking Poe straight on with nothing but complete gratitude, “and I have only you to thank for my life right now. Had you not gone down there against every reason not to, I would have died on that moon. I don’t have words to thank you enough, commander, but thank you. Thank you, thank you,  _thank you_.” You feel your voice break on you last two words, but you close your eyes to keep a reign on your emotions.

Poe’s voice, too, is softer when he speaks again. “You have nothing to thank me for. After all, I was only doing for you what you did for me. That TIE was aiming for me, but you took the hit instead. If you weren’t trying to protect me, it would have been me going down to that moon instead of you. So really, I should be thanking you.”

You smile softly at his words, your eyes retreating from his face to stare instead at your white bed sheets.

“I just have one question, commander. When we were down on that moon waiting for the medical evac, you said something about having to hold on because you wouldn’t be able to apologize otherwise. What were you talking about?” Your brows furrow, eyes fluttering back up to his face to see him run a hand through his hair. He lets out a nervous breath of air before speaking slowly.

“What I said those weeks ago about you and your home, I couldn’t have been more wrong, could I?”

At the mention of his accusations against you those weeks ago, your eyes quickly fall back to your bed sheets.

“Most parts, yes, but you also weren’t entirely wrong about me.”

Poe takes a tentative step closer to your bed. “Well, can I ask? It seems that anytime it comes up all I hear is how wrong, how  _cruel_  what I said was. What… what really happened before you came here?”

You stare at Poe for a long moment then. You don’t see anything in his eyes but sincerity. You let out a long sigh and move towards the edge of your bed, patting the other side with your hand.

“If I’m going to tell you, you may want to sit down. It’s a long story.” He looks at you for a moment before doing as he was told. He sits on the edge of the bed, face angled towards your while his legs dangle over the bed’s edge. There is a respectable distance between yourself and him.

“You were right. I was born on Nybyki. My father and mother were the heads of one of the largest luxury exporting companies to the Empire. I had a privileged childhood. I asked, and I received. Nybyki never had to face overt Imperial rule, but around 20 years ago, they came to us is a... quieter way. The Empire needed more soldiers, and Nybyki had always been an ally to them. It was only natural that they came to us.” You break from your words for a moment to look at Poe. His face is expressionless, but you can tell that he’s listening intently.

“I’m sure my parents knew what was going on, but they never thought we would be targeted. After all, it had always been the lower-class families that were taken from, so when two stormtroopers showed up at our door, my parents thought nothing of it. The troopers called my brother and me out and began inspecting us. My parents must have connected the dots to why the troopers were there because they went stock-still all of a sudden. When the troopers said they were going to take us, my father tried to bargain with them, but there was no room for negotiation. That’s when my father just lashed out. He tried to attack them, but my father was no fighter. The troopers took him and my mother down in an instant, but my parents wouldn’t stop fighting. The troopers didn’t even hesitate. They shot both of my parents straight through the chest. My brother and I just watched it happen. I was only seven, and he was just barely ten. We couldn’t do anything to stop them.” You can feel your heart breaking as you retell the story. Even now, nearly twenty-two years later, you still feel the pain like it was yesterday.

Next to you, Poe opens his mouth to speak, but you power through. You know that dwelling on that moment will do nothing but make the pain worse.

“From there we were taken by the troopers and forced on a ship. We were taken to an Imperial base somewhere in the middle rim. They told us we were to be trained as soldiers. My brother and I, we came from a rich family which meant that we had access to high education from an early age. We had the capabilities to be valuable assets to the Empire. We could become whatever they needed, so we were thrown into training. Diplomacy, hand to hand combat, flying, shooting, strategy - you name it and we were trained.

“I took to it all naturally, but my brother not so much. I shot forward in training while he fell behind. The officers must have eventually realized my brother wasn’t cut out to be a soldier - and usually that would mean termination - but they knew how close we were. My brother was my everything, and they must have known they could use that against me. See, for all that I had in class, I had just as strong of a rebellious streak outside of the training rooms. I would disobey orders, talk back to officers, ignore proper protocol - everything. I spent just as much time in training as I did getting reprimanded, but no matter how many times they hit me, it never changed anything. So instead of getting rid of my brother, they kept him for leverage against me. If I acted up, he got hit. If I behaved well, I was granted permission to see him.

“I fell right into their hands. I did as asked. I never spoke out or stepped out of line again. I was their perfect little soldier. I continued training under the promise that when I graduated from training at seventeen, my brother and I could go to whatever compound they assigned me. I would work in strategy and espionage, and he would be with me. Safe.” You close your eyes, hand gripping the bed sheets under you with white knuckles.  _Hold it together._

Tentatively, Poe speaks, “That didn’t happen though, did it?”

“No.” Your voice breaks as the word claws its way up your throat. “Things don’t work out like that. Not for me. When I finally completed my training, I went down to the cell where they held my brother. I was going to get him out. I was going to take him with me where we could finally be safe together, but one look at his cell told me that my plan was about to change. He was just lying there. Completely motionless. I tried to tell myself that he was sleeping, but I knew better. There was blood on the floor of his cell.  _So much blood_.” Your voice is raw. The grief you feel is too strong to try and hold back. “He was dead... I was too late to keep him safe.” You take a moment to breathe, trying to keep your tears from falling.

“His death broke me. I became hollow. The Empire took away my parents. They took away my brother - my best friend. Why try to fight them? The moment they killed my brother, they took me too.  I didn’t dare fight the Empire - I had no reason to anymore. I killed for them. I lied for them. I did anything for them because I simply didn’t care anymore.

“I was about three years into my service when they had me running surveillance. There was a spy on our base, and I was to monitor all base footage to find out who they were. The thing about the First Order, though, is that all the security footage from every station is backed up into one central database. I was going through footage when I stumbled upon the footage from my brother’s cell. I always thought that they killed him to break me, but that footage… He  _let_  himself die. He acted out. He assaulted a guard and forced the troopers hand. They shot him in the stomach and left him to bleed out. When the troopers were gone, he let out his last words. ‘It’s my turn to be Atlas.’”

You see the confusion on Poe’s face before he even speaks. “It’s his turn to… What does that mean?”

“Before we were taken from our home, my brother loved astronomy. I could point to any star in the galaxy, and he could tell me its name and story. One day not long after he was pulled out of training, I was granted permission to see him. When I got to his cell, he said that he wanted to tell me the story of his favorite stars: Atlas and Annis.”

_Long before the Rebellion, long before the Empire, and long before the two starts ever adorned the sky, Atlas and Annis were twins. Born in a far-off galaxy that no longer exists, the two had no one but each other. Just three years after their birth, their mother had fallen ill and passed away. Their father, consumed by anguish and heartbreak, died not long after. They grew up in a tiny village, but life was not easy for two young orphans. The people of the town were cold and unwilling to help the two young children, but Atlas, born just three minutes before his twin sister, knew it was his responsibility to protect Annis. If Annis was hungry, he would find her food. If she was getting harassed by the other children, Atlas would make them leave her alone, telling them to make fun of him instead. If Annis was cold, he would find her a blanket for warmth. That’s how they got on for years. They slowly grew older and older, but Atlas never stopped protecting his little sister._

_Until one day._

_They were just barely fifteen then, and food had been hard to come by that year. They had not eaten in days, and Atlas knew that he’d have to think of something to fill their stomachs. Eventually, he did. There was a baker in town, and Atlas had it on good authority that the man didn’t lock up his shop at night, so he began to sneak into the little shop in the dead of night, taking what he could to keep Annis and himself fed. When the baker found out what Atlas had been doing, he was livid. He called for justice. He wanted someone to pay for what they had taken, but neither of them had any money to give. The baker called for them to be thrown in prison - to be starved for as many days as they had stolen from him. The baker wanted both the twins to pay for the crime, but Atlas wouldn’t let Annis suffer like that. So, he took both of their punishments. He laid in that jail cell, forbidden to see his sister, for twenty-three days before his hunger finally won. But before he died, Atlas made one last wish to the universe. He wished to become a star - one so bright that Annis could always see him watching over and protecting her. The night that he passed, as Annis laid to bed, she saw a new star high in the sky - one that shone brighter than every other star in the sky - and she knew._

**_Atlas_**.

_Years and years later, after she had grown old with Atlas’ protection shining down on her, she passed as well, dotting the sky with a new star of her own - right next to her brother for the rest of eternity._

“He always called me his Atlas.” There is a fondness in your voice as you recount the memory. “He said that even though I was his little sister, I was always the one protecting him. I was the one getting hurt and sacrificing myself to keep him safe. So, that day in his cell,” your soft voice now tilts with despair, “when he said that it was his turn, that was his way of saying that it would be him making the sacrifice to keep me safe this time. He didn’t want the First Order’s life for me. He knew I wasn’t the killer the First Order turned me into. He knew that if I didn’t have to protect him anymore, I could be free and do right with the universe. So, he let himself die. For me. He became my Atlas.”

“That’s where your callsign comes from?” Poe’s words are phrased like a question, but judging by the sureness in his voice, he already knows the answer.

“Yes. When I’m up there flying through space, I like to think that just like Atlas, one of those stars is my brother watching over me right now. My callsign reminds me that he may not be with me physically, but my brother never truly left.”

You’re not sure when your eyes found Poe’s, but you find yourself gazing into his soft brown eyes as he looks back into yours. There is nothing but tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you, and for the first time, you feel something other than the usual unease that comes from staring at Poe. You find comfort.

After a long moment, you break your eyes away and continue your story.

“In the two months after that day, I planned my escape and eventually deserted on one of my missions, faking my death before making my escape. I hopped from planet to planet to keep from being found until I ended up on Jakku. I was doing contract work with thieves and smugglers and mercenaries when I met General Gehrig - just Lou at the time. We became close quickly, both having lost so much to war and compelled by a need to take down the First Order. We eventually started our own small resistance, and well, you can guess the rest.”

A silence follows your words. As the quiet draws longer and longer, you bring your eyes back to Poe’s face in the hope of finding some sort of response. Looking at him, you see too many emotions on his face to pin a single one down. Almost as if working through everything you said on his own, his face finally clears as he speaks.

He calls your name softly, almost like he’s handling something so fragile that it may shatter if he speaks it too loudly. “I am so sorry. After everything you’ve been through… I had no right to say what I did. I…  _I’m so sorry_.” He’s looking at you so intently now, as if trying to convey how much truth his words hold through just his eyes. He didn't need to. You’d believe him anyway.

You give him a sad smile. “You have no reason to apologize. You may have been wrong in your reasoning why, but you’re right about me. I’m too weak to be a commander. I think that may be why I was so angry at your words in the first place. They were true - spot on actually.”

Poe furrows his eyebrows at your words. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m wrong. Everything that you’ve just told me - that proves it.”  

“But it doesn’t,” your voice is insistent, trying to get Poe to understand. “It proves that you’re right. I like to put on a brave face and act like I can do this, but I  _can’t_. I’m too weak to make sacrifices that are necessary in war.”

“Not wanting to lose people isn’t weakness.”

“It is when the fear keeps you from doing what needs to be done. It’s a weakness when you let the fear control you, and that’s all I’ve let it do! My brother, my parents, all those that I’ve killed… They all died for -  _because of_  - me. All those people are gone and it’s my fault! I can’t have more people die the same way because of orders that I gave. I can’t let myself send more people to their death. I know I need to make those calls in war, but I can’t do it! There is already too much- too much blood on my hands. I’ve killed too many already, and there’s too- too much blood, and it’s my- it’s my fault. It’s all my-”

You’re not sure when you starting crying, but you can feel the wetness on your face as your words start coming out in broken cries. Your hands are rubbing down the sheets on your bed, fingers becoming frantic as they swipe endlessly on the white sheets.

_The blood. I can see the blood. It’s all over me. Oh god, it’s everywhere. I can’t get the blood off. It’s not coming off. I have to get it off! **Get off!**_

You can feel your breath become short as the figment blood doesn’t move from your skin. You wipe your hands faster and slam your eyes shut.

**_Get off!_ **

Your hands only stop when Poe grabs them in both of his. He holds your hands until they calm, taking one of his hands to wipe away the tears that run rivers down your red cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, calm down,” his voice is soft and comforting, his thumb softly stroking your cheek. Slowly, your eyes open again to find his. “None of that is your fault. You couldn’t stop what happened to your family. You were forced to do those-”

“But I wasn’t!” The words that burst out of your throat are real and frantic and painful and _raw_. “I wasn’t forced! They put the blaster in my hand, but I chose to shoot it! I chose myself over those people. I decided that keeping my life justified taking theirs - like my life somehow meant more-”

“You made the decision that saved you.” Poe’s eyes never leave your wet ones, willing you to believe his words. “Anyone in that position would have done the same thing. No one blames you for what you’ve done.  _You_  need to stop blaming yourself for what you’ve done.”

You search his eyes for something - lies, disgust, blame - but find nothing there. You just stay like that, staring into each other’s eyes, until the tears finally stop falling down your face. When you speak, your voice is barely a whisper.

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Every time I need to decide between staying and fighting or running, I always run away. How… How do you let yourself decide to stay and fight? How do you make the call that could end in victory or more bloodshed? How do you do it and not feel like every life lost is bearing down on your shoulders, telling you that it’s  _your_  fault?”

Something dark flashes across his eyes. He looks away. A beat passes before Poe answers. “I’m not going to say that it’s easy. It’s not. I have days like that too, you know? Especially when we first got here. The reason we were so broken after our run-in with the First Order, I know I played a part in that. Every day after we got away I couldn’t help but ask myself how many more people would be alive if I had just followed orders. How many people had  _I_  killed by making the choices I did?”

His eyes look far away. Hands still in his, you give his hand a gentle squeeze to bring him back. His eyes meet yours again before he continues. “We can’t do that to ourselves. Every soldier here knows when they enlist that death is always a possibility. If they weren’t ready for that reality, they wouldn’t be risking their lives on the front line every day. In war, people are going to die. Does that mean we stop trying to save as many people as possible? Of course not. But does that also mean we run when things get dangerous? Let the fear of loss keep us from fighting? No. Even though it can seem like all that blood is on your hands, it’s not. You make the decisions you make and sometimes they end in victory and sometimes they end in loss, but you can’t blame yourself for outcomes that you couldn’t have seen coming.”

You take a long moment to really hear his words. You run them over in your head once more before deciding that you like his answer. A lot.

“I was wrong about you, Poe.” You see something small in Poe lighten when you call him by his first name. For the first time with you, he’s not Dameron, not Commander - just Poe. “I thought you were just here for glory - to be the ‘best pilot in the resistance’, but I was wrong. I’m sorry too for all that I’ve said. Maybe… Maybe you and I can try this again. Maybe you can teach me that it’s okay to make sacrifices sometimes - show me that it’s not my fault.”

Something in your heart soars at the smile Poe sends your way.

“Maybe you can teach me too then - teach me that not everything has to be a sacrifice, that sometimes it’s okay to step back and play it safe.” A blush covers Poe’s face then as his hand not holding yours moves to rub the back of his neck. “Leia always did say that I had a bit of a reckless streak.”

You laugh lightly with him until the chuckles fade, your hands left holding his.

“Together then?”

“Together.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change and compromises are often much easier said than done, but the Reader is determined to find a way to make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally got an update out on Friday (Yay!), and I should be updating pretty regularly on Fridays from here on out. :)

The next time you’re called into the sky, you’re back with Poe’s fleet. Due to the heavy losses during your last battle on the moon, fleets needed to be reorganized again, leaving you flying once again with your original crew. Two weeks ago, you would have been livid at having to fly with Poe again, but the change is not one that you find yourself griping at. In light of the conversation you’d had in your medical room with Poe, you figured that the two of you would get along just fine in the skies now, but you’d both overlooked one thing.

You had been running things your way for years before Poe arrived. Poe had been running things his way for years before you arrived. Change, no matter how voluntary it may be, was never quick nor easy.

Mid-mission, orders needed to be given, but you’d found yourself at odds with your co-commander again - you trying to convince Poe of why it’d be better to retreat while Poe tried to convince you of why it’d be better to fight. As words were traded and neither of you made any motion to be switching opinion, you took a page from Poe’s book and simply acted without thought. You shut off Poe’s comm and further  _closed his comm transmitter off from the group_  before snapping your own orders out to the flight groups.

When you’d finally touched back down on the tarmac, Poe was livid. He was ready to chew you out for your actions, but before he could even get the words out, you were apologizing. Different from every argument the two of you had before, one of you was conceding. You knew that shutting him out was wrong, and you should have come to an agreement before you took control, and you felt  _bad_.

...Until he did the same thing to you on the next mission.

This time, it was your turn to be livid, storming up to him on the tarmac only to be met with a bashful and apologetic Poe. You definitely weren’t seeing eye to eye, but you were finally seeing  _each other_ , and that was a start at least.

More missions passed with neither of you being able to come to an agreement, and you decided that something more than simply  _wanting_  to get along was necessary.

After another argument filled mission, you and Poe headed to command for your debriefs. You finished first, but instead of leaving to go to your cabin like usual, you waited outside of the command center for Poe. Not long after you were dismissed, so was he. Exiting command, he was surprised to see you still in the hallway. Before he had a chance to ask though, you were grabbing his wrist with a gruff, “Follow me.”

A short while later, you arrive at your quarter’s door. Quickly punching in the passcode, the door opened, and you pull Poe inside with you.

“Sit,” you command as you point to a small table set in the corner of your room. He gives you a questioning look but does as told. As he goes to the table, you move to your closet, opening the doors and pulling a box of papers up from where lay on the floor. Hauling the box onto the table, you take a seat in the chair opposite to Poe’s.

His curiosity must get the better of him because he’s suddenly asking, “What is all this?”

“These are the flight logs and debrief records from every mission we’ve flown together. I want us to go through them together.”

The questioning look doesn’t leave Poe’s face. “Why?”

You sigh and wipe an exhausted hand down your face. “We haven’t gotten along any better since we started flying together again. Obviously just saying we’ll try to come to an agreement isn’t working. If we’re really going to make any progress, we’re going to have to put in the effort to change.”

Poe considers your words for a minute before nodding in agreement. “Okay, so how do we do that?”

“First off, we start debriefing together. No more separate debriefs like we’re flying two different missions. We fly together, we command together, we report together.” Poe nods once to your words. “Secondly, we try to see the others point of view. That’s where this comes in.” You gesture to the box. “I want to go through all of these together and go over what we did wrong. I want to hear your perspective on the mission, and I want you to listen to mine. Maybe if we can understand each other a little better we’ll stop going for the other’s neck whenever a decision has to be made. We do the groundwork now so that next time we fly we’re not so against each other.”

“Alright. Judging by the size of this box, we may want to get started then.”

Mission log after mission log, you and Poe talk long into the night. You slowly get through the entire box, and not a moment too soon. You’d begun dosing off in your chair, eyes falling shut for long seconds before jolting yourself back awake. You vaguely remember wanting to talk to Poe about a few more things, but then you’re being woken up by your morning alarm. You rub the sleep from your eyes. You don’t remember Poe leaving or you climbing into bed for the night, but you assume that you must have at some point and simply didn’t remember.  

You get up to change when a knock on your door interrupts you. You quickly slip on a pair of black pants before opening the door just a crack. Your eyes widen when you see that Poe is the one outside of your door so early in the morning. You open the door a bit wider.

“Good morning,” you say casually.

“Good morning,” he replies, voice rough from sleep. “I figured that since you fell asleep before we could finish yesterday, we could continue today.”

You bite your lip for a tense second before replying, “I was planning to work on my ship today. She felt a little off last mission, and I wanted to take a look and see what’s wrong.”

“We could do it at the same time. You said last night that you wanted to run theoretical situations together. We can do that while working on your ship.”

You consider his words, and you’re not sure if it’s from all the hours spent talking yesterday, but a strange teasing mood coming over you. “I’m not so sure…” you hedge, your lips coming to quirk up into a small grin. “The last time you were around when I tried to fix a ship, the term ‘hand lathe’ got a bit too literal for me.”

To your surprise, Poe laughs at your words, a bright grin finding his face. “I promise that you won’t get any more power tools to the body if you let me help you. Besides, I guess I owe you one after the last time you fixed my ship.”

You pretend to think for a minute, humming to yourself in false though before answering, “Alright, Poe. I guess I’ll let you help me  _this time_. Let me just throw on some shoes real quick.”

Poe nods once at your words, and not long after, the two of you are striding together towards the hangar and your ship. Once there, you hop into your X-wing and start her up, telling Poe to listen in for anything that sounds unusual.

“Do you hear anything?” You call from the pilot’s chair.

“Yeah, I think there’s a grinding coming from your ternary pump! You can shut her off.”

You power the ship down and jump back out of the cockpit, meeting Poe where he stands near your ship’s engine block.

“Well, let’s open her up, shall we?”

You quickly assess the damage. From the looks of it, he’s right. Your ternary pump is corroded. It should be a quick fix – simply removing the old cylinder and replacing it with a new one. The repair should be no more than two hours tops. You quickly gather the tools you will need, asking Poe to go to the hangar storage and grab one of the replacement pumps.

With everything you need, you settle into your ship and begin stripping away at the old pump.

“We’re running theoreticals, right?” you ask. “You go ahead and start, and we can switch off.”

Poe thinks for a minute before spinning you a fake scenario, the both of you running through it together. It takes a bit of work to find agreements on what commands should be given in the situation, but you slowly start to find a middle ground. You’re able to get through about five theoreticals by the time you’ve finished replacing your ternary pump.

The two of you, having skipped breakfast, decide to break for lunch. Grabbing your food and turning to face the busy canteen, your eyes find Tadia as Poe’s search for Finn. You bid your co-commander a quick  _see you later_  before splitting off from him to instead go towards your best friend.

Placing yourself next to your bright-haired companion, you bid her a quick greeting. Lunch passes quickly as you make small talk with Tadia, but your meal is cut short by the alarms calling your fleet to flight. Battles are coming more and more often these days, and you can’t seem to catch a break, but you get up from the table anyway, quickly making your way to the hangar with Tadia. Flight suit on and X-wings taken to the tarmac, you and Poe make final calls before your fleet jumps to the skies.

From what command said, you were to intercept a cargo ship that is transporting ardanium from Questal to a First Order base. It shouldn’t be a difficult task, but once the cargo ship is in sight, you notice that the freighter is more heavily armored than most other cargo ships. It will take more power and more time to take down the ship, opening a large window of time for First Order back up to arrive. You grit your teeth. Nothing can ever be easy, can it?

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” you quickly give each squad orders before launching your attack. Your first thoughts were correct and not long after your assault on the ship begins, First Order fighters are joining the skies.

You open your private comm with Poe. “What are we thinking, Black Leader?”

“By looks of it, that freighter is almost down, and they’ve only sent a few Hunters for now. If we focus Blue Squadron on the Hunters, we should be able to take down that freighter and be out of here before they have time to send any more reinforcements.”

“That’s risky, Black Leader. How do we know more ships aren’t already on their way?”

“We don’t.”

“Well, I’m not willing to stay here and find out! We should fall back before we get overwhelmed.”

“Atlas Leader, we can do this. Trust your pilots.” A pause. Then, quieter. “Trust me.”        

Two months ago, you would have called him crazy and make the call for retreat despite his words. Two weeks ago, you probably would have done the same, but today?

You think over his words quickly, running the chances in your head. You feel the usual fear of loss take its icy grip on your heart, but then you hear Poe’s final two words again.  _Trust me._  Somehow, it gives you the strength you need.

“Let’s do it then.” The words are hard to get out, but as each syllable falls from your lips, you find your shoulders loosening more and more. You shake the icy fear from around your heart, no longer letting it rule you, and it feels  _good_.

You bite your lip to keep your smile down as Poe goes back on the main comm line to give out the new orders. His voice brings you back to the task at hand. You ground yourself back in your X-wing, focusing on finding the freighter’s fuel cell. Minutes drag on and the fuel cell has still yet to be blown. You start to grow worried and find that your ill feelings are not misplaced because not long after you grow anxious, First Order reinforcements show up. You curse to yourself.

Poe’s voice flares up in your ear. “More ships. We need to-”

“Atlas will take the incoming fighters with Blue. You and Red stay on that freighter and get that thing down!”

“You’re not calling to retreat? You’re not going to battle me on staying to fight?” Poe’s voice is surprised.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it, Black Leader?”

Poe laughs lightly. “Not at all.”

“Good.” You smirk, flipping your comm back to the main line. “More fighters coming in. Blue, stay on those hunters. Atlas, peel off and focus on taking down those new ships. Black and Red, keep working on that freighter.”

A chorus of confirmations ring through your ears. You pilot your X-wings towards the fighters with the rest of Atlas. The fighters outnumber your fleet three to one, but you don’t shy away. This should be fun.

You call out quick orders to your team. “Atlas One, Three, and Five, you take the offensive and go after those ships. Two, Four, Six, and I will cover you.”

Your pilots jump into action and begin taking down fighters. You jump cover each pilot where needed, but covering your team leaves you from being protected. You grit your teeth when you catch a fighter locked on behind you. He sends a shot that you barely manage to dodge. You return fire, but the fighter is quicker than your shots. You narrow your eyes. You begin slipping through the chaos of the other ships, hoping to lose the fighter, but he stays hot on your tail. Figuring that this fighter isn’t leaving without being shot out of the sky, you swing your ship in a U, facing the fighter. You make a pass at him, shooting but just barely missing in your cross. You turn, making another pass but this time, it’s you who is dodging shots.

You stay in the dogfight for longer than you’d like. You need to be protecting your squadron, but you can’t do anything with this kriffing ship attacking you. You make another pass, narrowly tiling your ship out of the way to avoid getting swiped by the fighter’s own wing. An idea pops into your head – not a  _good_  one, but one none the less. One your next pass with the ship, you send your X-wing into a spin just as you get near. Your wing finds purchase on the fighter’s hull, sending the both of your ships spinning uncontrollably. The fighter must be trying to right his ship, but you planned for this. Letting your ship spin, you wait for the fighter to come back into your sights on your ship’s revolution. Anticipating the ship’s appearance in your firing range, you send out a series of blasts and revel in the sound of the explosion as one of your shots hits home.

You right your ship and move back to covering your pilots, but you’re not needed for long. Behind your ship, the fuel cell of the freighter is finally hit, and the ship blows like a firework. Finished with the freighter, Black Squad comes to help take out the fighters with your crew while Red helps Blue with the remaining hunters. When all the ships are taken out, cheers filter through the comms, but your thoughts fly elsewhere. You quickly count the X-wings in the skies around you. Twenty-four in total. You let out a sigh of relief.  _They’re all safe._

In your ear, you hear Poe’s voice call out in a cheer, “That’s more like it! Now let’s get out of here before more ships show up. All squads, prepare to make the jump to hyperspace.”

You busy yourself with preparing your ship when Poe’s voice filters through your helmet once again, only this time, his voice comes through the private line. You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he speaks.

“Good job, Atlas Leader.”

You smile at his words.

“You too, Black Leader.”

 

* * *

 

 

Touching down on the tarmac, you power your engine down and hop out of your ship. The other pilots do the same, all waiting for this mission’s bout of post-flight yelling between their commanders, but you surprise them. Instead of the usual cruel words you send Poe’s way, you send him a small smile instead. He returns the grin, nodding his head as if to ask  _are you okay?_  You nod back, smile growing.  _Never better._

“Alright, what did I miss? You’re not yelling at each other? You’re smiling at him? He’s smiling at you? Maker, did I take a nosedive out there because this must be a fever dream,” Tadia says, walking to stand next to you.

You laugh at her words. “Nope, no dream. I think Poe and I finally found some common ground.”

Tadia looks surprised at your words. “Really? Well, I don’t know how you did it, but if it makes all missions go that well, keep doing it!” You laugh. “But seriously, I’m glad the two of you are getting along better. You look lighter today than you usually do after battles.”

You smile gently. “I  _feel_  lighter. It was nice to not have to fight with him on every decision.  _Maker_ , was it nice!”

Tadia smiles at your visible relief, and you quickly excuse yourself for debrief. Heading to the command center, you find Poe waiting for you outside of the command doors. You shoot a questioning eyebrow up.

“‘Fly together, command together, report together,’ remember?”

You smile at his repetition of your words from yesterday, nodding once before entering command with Poe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe being friends with Poe isn’t going to be all that bad.
> 
> Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! AKA Atlas update day AAKA My last real day of high school (Can I get an amen?)   
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

The morning after your successful mission, you wake with a groan. It’s training day. You peel yourself out of bed, throw on your training gear, and jog your way to the training room. Entering, you find Tadia and start walking towards her, but a call of your name stops your steps short.

Looking to your left, Poe is striding towards you. “Hey, train with me today? I wanted to talk to you about some things.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You hadn’t sparred with Poe since the day you were late to training all those months ago, and  _that_  hadn’t gone well. You shake the thought from your mind.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” You shrug your shoulders.

Quickly telling Tadia the change of plans, you find a mat and square off with Poe.

“You wanted to talk about something?” You ask, throwing a quick punch to his stomach.

He dodges it.

“Yeah, I was thinking, and you know, we worked really well together yesterday.” He sends an elbow for your head. You duck out of the way. “How about we call it a truce – leave the last few months behind us and start over?”

You raise an eyebrow and throw another blow at Poe. Your hit finds purchase in his chest. “I thought we already did?”

He quickly recovers from the hit, returning the attack to your right side. “As commanders, yes, but how about as people now too? You know, try to get along outside of the job as well?”

“Poe Dameron, did you hit your head?” You duck as he goes for another strike to your face.

“No? What makes you ask that?”

“Because,” you send a strike to his torso, “getting along for work is one thing, but outside of that? Not too long ago you were telling Finn I was some evil ice queen.”

You think you see a bit of blush tint Poe’s face, but then you’re moving to dodge a blow too fast to really see. “Yeah well, I’ve been known to be wrong about some things.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you laugh, but the chuckles leave you off guard and lets Poe land a hit to your right side.

“So, what do you say? Truce?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. “A truce it is then.” The words barely leave your lips when Poe sends a hard kick to the same side he just punched, sending you falling to the mat. You let out a curse at the pain in your side. “ _Maker_ , Poe, if that’s your ‘truce’ then I take it back.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and walks over to you. You’re surprised to find him offering a hand to help you back up. You take it.

“Sorry. You leave your right side exposed when you attack. Watch.” He gets back into a ready position. “Throw a punch at me.”

You get back into position and do as he says. Your right fist goes for a hook to his jaw, but he grabs your hand midair before the punch can land. His other hand throws a punch at your right side, stopping the motion just before making contact.

“See? Completely open. Here,” his hands grab your hips, adjusting them to where your right side is tilted more away from him. He shifts your blocking arm more towards the middle of your body. “Angle your left side away from your attacker and keep your other arm more centered when you throw a punch. That way, if your opponent counters, your arm is quicker to block the hit.” You nod, and he lets go of you. “Alright, try again.”

You get back into a fighting stance and try your right hook again. Poe ducks under the punch and sends a hard hit to your side.

“You’re still leaving it open. Come on, angle and shift your arm. Try again.”

You clench your jaw but do as he says. You send another punch his way, tilting your body and adjusting. He dodges the blow again, but when he sends a counter your way this time, your arm quickly moves over to knock the hit away from your body.

“There you go!” A bright grin breaks out on Poe’s face. “Do it again.”

You do, and his nod of approval brings your own grin out. You shift back into full sparring, and despite slipping up here and there, you’re able to block most of the hits he sends to your right side.

Sparring with Poe is much different now than it was the first time. Instead of biting quips, he sends light jokes your way as you fight. You help each other up when the other is pinned down, and you actually find yourself  _enjoying_  sparring with him.

However, you don’t end up getting your full training time because after a few more rounds of fighting, Lieutenant Connix is sticking her head in the training room, her voice calling for you and Poe’s presence in command. Your head tilts at her words. You just got back from a mission. The First Order couldn’t possibly be planning to attack again so soon, right?

You shake off your thoughts, walking to command to find the generals looking over schematics on the holo screen.

“Commanders,” General Organa nods to the both of you, “I’m glad you’ve arrived. We have much to discuss.”

“What’s all this?” you ask, gesturing to the schematics.

“This,” General Gehrig picks up, “is the blueprint for a First Order supply base on Raada that was intercepted by Bravo Squadron on their last recon run.”

“Okay, so what does that mean for us?” Poe asks.

“We want to launch an offensive strike.” Organa’s words surprise you. “We’ve been unsure for a while if we could manage a successful strike, but after yesterday’s battle, we think it can be done.”

“And you want us to do it,” Poe’s words are sure, his face lighting up at the chance to finally strike first.

Organa nods. “Yes, we think your fleet is the best to send in.”

“The plan will be in two phases.” General Gehrig explains. “Phase one will be the hardest part. We need to get someone inside that base. The building is protected by a defense shield that can only be passed through by ships with the correct entrance code, but if we sneak someone in as a trooper, they can shut the shield off from the inside. They’ll go in with a transmitter. It’ll have to be small, probably only able to connect with one line, but it should be able to get past any security checks they may happen to come into contact with. They’ll use the transmitter to notify when the shield is down, and the attack can commence.”

General Organa calls your name. “We want it to be you, commander. You’ve spent extended time inside First Order bases and have the most knowledge on blending in as well as the base’s controls. You have the best chance to slip in and out without being caught.”

You nod. “Yes, general.”

“Phase two,” Gehrig continues, “is a bit easier. Once the shield is down, your ships will come in two teams. The first team will lead a strike on the base, blowing out the building’s power and destroying the facility. Assuming they send out fighter ships, that’s where team two comes in. Those pilots stick high to the skies, combating any enemy ships that come your way.”

“How am I supposed to get off base in all the chaos?”

“The base is surrounded by dense forest, but there is a clearing about fifty-two hundred feet off the west edge of the base. You’ll need to get there – that’s your extraction point. When you notify us that the shield is down, one of the pilots will fly ahead of the first team and pick you up.”

“All that’s left to be decided, commanders, is what pilots will go where. It’s up to the two of you how to break your pilots into teams. To avoid confusion, there should also be one designated pilot that will extract the commander from the planet,” General Organa says. “The strike is planned for a week from now, but it would be best for your pilots to be prepped early. I want definite flight arrangements made by tomorrow morning, are we clear?”

“Yes, general.” The words leave you and Poe’s mouth in unison.

* * *

 

You don’t meet with Poe to plan the attack until later in the evening – both of you having other jobs to attend during the day. Poe offers to meet in his room, deciding that it’d be best to discuss the matters away from public ears, and you agree.

You think nothing of the agreement, but arrival to Poe’s room proves that maybe his quarters weren’t the best choice. You knock on his door when you’ve finished your work for the day. He opens to let you in, but with your first steps into his room, his orange and white droid is rolling towards you at full speed, a series of angry pitched beeps and whirrs.

You jump, a small squeak of surprise leaving your lips. You fling your head to look at Poe, eyes wide and unsure what to do. Luckily, Poe is able to calm his droid, patting its head and talking it down.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down there, buddy! She’s a friend.” The droid sends a doubtful beep Poe’s way. “Yes, really.” Another suspicious beep. “I know, I know, but we fixed it. She’s okay I promise.”

The droid gives a reluctant whirr, but you notice that even when you and Poe sit at the table across from his bed, the droid still hovers between you and Poe as if it doesn’t trust you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit uncomfortable.

“Your droid’s name is BB-8, right?” Poe nods. “I don’t think he likes me too much.”

“He doesn’t dislike you-” BB-8 interrupts with a harsh beep that you can only assume to mean  _oh, yes I do_. “He just may take a bit to warm up to you.”

“Right…” you say, completely unconvinced of Poe’s words. “Well, let’s get started then.”

It takes about two hours for you to perfect the flight plans, but you and Poe are finally happy with the ship arrangement. You’re writing up the plans to give to the generals when Poe breaks your concentration.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Going back into a First Order base as a soldier, I mean?”

You shrug. “It’s only for one mission – it’s not like I have to go back permanently. I won’t say I’m thrilled about it, but I was given orders and I have to follow them through.”

“You don’t have to complete orders that you aren’t comfortable with.”

You snort at that. “Comfort isn’t one of the luxuries of war, Poe. I have orders, and I have to follow them. Period. End of story.”

Poe sends you a worried look. “I’m not sure…”

“I’ll be fine, Poe,” you sigh.

His worried look doesn’t leave though. You go back to focusing on writing the plans when Poe abruptly gets up from his chair and extends a hand to you. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What’s this?” You ask wearily.

“A hand. You’re supposed to grab it.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, obviously, but why? We need to finish the-”

“I’ll finish it in the morning. Come on.”

“Poe,” your voice is warning, “I’m not-”

“Truce, remember? Just grab my hand. Trust me.” There those words are again.  _Trust me._

You heave a heavy sigh, but place your hand in his. “Fine, fine, but if this is something stupid, I’ll punch you.”

Poe laughs brightly, “I can deal with that.” Hand in hand, he pulls you out of your chair. You sneak a glance at BB-8 who’s now powered down and charging on a battery cell. Who knows what the poor droid would do if he saw you and Poe right now.

Expecting to go to the door, you’re surprised when Poe leads you less than five feet away to his bed. He sits down on the mattress, legs crossed, and pats the spot across from him for you to do the same.

You raise your eyebrows at him, but take your place across from him on the bed.

“Now, was that so bad?” Poe’s tone is joking, but you’re feeling the opposite.

“You’re about this close to being punched.”

He laughs despite your growing irritation. “Alright, put your hands out, palms up.” When your hands are in position, Poe’s own two come down, slapping against yours. “Now, clap.”

“What is this, Dameron?”

“A game.”

“And why are we playing a game when we have work to do?”

“Because there is no way you’re okay with having to go back into that First Order base. This is something my mom taught me when I was a boy. She’d play it with me whenever I was angry or upset to make me feel better, so now I’m teaching you.”

You can’t say that he’s wrong about your emotions towards your role in the mission, but you’re doubtful that a hand-game will make you feel better about it. You humor him anyway and learn the motions.

“We’re supposed to count up and add another clap each time. We’re trying to get as high as we can before one of us messes up.”

You begrudgingly try the game, taking it slow at first, but the more numbers you get through, the faster Poe speeds up. You try to keep up, laughing as your brain speeds through what move comes next. You’re the one who messes up, sending you hands out to clap Poe’s before clapping them together yourself. When you realize your mistake, you give a little yelp of surprise, giggling all the while.

“Ah no!” Your hands fall to hit your legs in your little outburst before going back to starting position. “Come on, we’re playing it again. I want to get it right!”

Poe obliges, playing again until you once again mess up. This time, Poe too laughs when you let out a little noise at your mistake, demanding to play again. His smile is soft as he watches you. His little plan worked, but with the stress and worry of the coming mission floating off your shoulders for a bit, you don’t find yourself upset at being proved wrong. For once, you’re a little glad that he was right.

You play his hand game over and over, determined to get to a point where  _he’s_  the one to mess up. When he finally does, you let out a loud cheer, your hands flying up in excitement.

“I won! I won! I won!” Happy giggles fall from your lips as you fling your back down on Poe’s bed, hands still high above your head in victory.

Despite losing the round, Poe’s laughter is as bright as yours, highly amused by your victory antics. “Shhh! People are probably trying to sleep,” he tries to scold, but the laughter in his voice keeps him from sounding angry at all.

His words, though, do sober you up a little bit, sitting up to check the time on your datapad. Your eyes shoot open when you see that lateness of the hour. “Oh maker, when did it get so late? I should probably head back to my room.”

You pick yourself off the bed, walking to the door. Poe follows behind, waiting for you to open your own room door before bidding you goodnight. He goes to close his door when your voice stops him.

“Hey, Poe.” He stops his motion, door still half open and eyes on you. “Thank you for, you know, making me feel better. I appreciate it.”

Once again, he gives you that soft smile. “Anytime.”

Maybe being friends with Poe isn’t going to be all that bad.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets a solo mission that only she can carry out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm about to hop on a plane (and then another plane), but I wanted to get this update out before I lose connection for like 6 hours. Enjoy and please comment!! I wanna talk to you guys lol

A week later, you’re hidden in the back of a stolen cargo ship on your way to Kafrene. You want nothing more than to stretch your legs from the crouched position you’re in, but you can’t risk making noise and alerting the Rodian pilot of your presence.

Yeah, this was definitely not your favorite last-minute adjustment to the plan.

Two days ago, four days before your scheduled attack on Raada, you were in command center with the generals, running through with them how your part of the mission would go. The original plan was for you to be dropped by a resistance ship on Kafrene where you would find a way onto a First Order ship headed to Raada, but your better judgment challenged the plan.

_“The First Order presence is too strong on Kafrene for a resistance ship to be piloted there. Assuming we make it to landing and they don’t just shoot us out of the sky immediately, the troops will be on high alert if word of a resistance ship starts circulating. My chances of getting aboard a ship will go from unlikely to near impossible.”_

_“Well then, commander, what do you suggest we do?” General Organa asked._

_“Drop me on Kaddak. No one will bat an eye at our ship, and smugglers are always making trips back and forth from Kaddak to Kafrene. I’ll find a ship and sneak my way on board. I’ll get to Kafrene, and the First Order will be none the wiser.”_

Yeah, present you is really not happy with past you right now. Holding in a groan at the tenseness of your leg muscles, you finally feel the ship make its landing. Not long after, the hatch of the cargo bay you’re currently hidden in flies open. Tilting your head around the corners of the boxes surrounding you, you catch glimpses of three Rodians unloading the ship. You curse to yourself. Slipping onto the ship past the one smuggler was easy, but doing the same with three? A bit more of a challenge. More boxes are taken out of the ship, and you get a better view of the landing pad.

You’re thankful to find that the pad is on ground level, and it’s full of other ships as well. With some luck, you can slip past the smugglers and into the crowd of ships and people without ever being noticed.

Another minute passes and you see your chance to escape. The three Rodians each grab a box, turning their backs on you to carry the ships to a cargo cart a few feet away. You take the chance to sprint out from your hiding spot, but not three steps off the ship, one of the smugglers makes a noise and turns around only to run straight into you.

Putting two and two together, the Roadian starts yelling out furious words in a language you don’t understand, but you don’t stick around to try and figure it out. Searching for an exit, you sprint away from the ship, weaving through ships and people alike. You are nearly to the exit when a blaster shot whizzes right past your body. Whipping your head around, you see the still furious smuggler chasing after you with a blaster in his hand. Yeah, you  _really need to go_.

Sprinting back in the direction of the exit, you quickly make your way from the landing zone to the bustling streets of Kafrene, dodging blaster shots as you go. Reaching the market’s edge, you disappear into the crowd of people as one last blaster shot narrowly misses your head. Slipping past people and burrowing yourself in the busy streets, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Smooth work there, really. You’re the epitome of stealth, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the recently adopted nickname. “Of all the people to be in my ear for the next two days, it just had to be you didn’t it?”

Poe’s laughter crackles through the small comm in your ear. “You were the one that chose me to be your contact point.”

“Only because you were so insistent on being the one to extract me from Raada. It’d be kind of hard to get extracted if I couldn’t talk to the person that’s supposed to pick me up.”

“You say that, but I really just think you’ve got a soft spot for me.” You can practically hear the smirk in Poe’s voice.

“In your dreams, Dameron,” you snort.

When his voice doesn’t come back in your ear, you focus back on the next part of your mission: Get on a First Order ship to Raada.

The easiest way to do that involves taking out one of the stormtroopers on patrol and stealing their armor, but a quick look around shows the patrol troopers in groups of at least four. Alright, looks like it’s time to get smart then.

You lurk around the market for a few minutes, blending in and looking for an unlucky target. You pretend to look at a small street stall when you spot one. About five feet away, open carry blaster, no top holster strap, Devronian.

“Of course, it’s a Devronian,” you whisper under your breath.

You walk towards the man with a practiced airiness in your step, and once close, you crash into the Devronian.

“Oh maker, I’m so sorry, sir! I wasn’t watching where I was going! I didn’t mean to bump into you – I’m sorry!” Your voice is high-pitched and annoying to your own ears, but you must play the scared little girl well because the Devronian bears his teeth at you, but his hand doesn’t reach for his blaster. Good thing too because if he did, he’d quickly notice that it was no longer there at all. Ducking your head, you scuttle off into the crowd once again, only this time with a nice blaster in your grip.

“Let’s see, blaster stolen off a nice Devronian? Check. Now, what was it you were saying about my stealth, Poe?” You ask, grin on your lips.

“Hardy har har, just don’t get cocky. You’ve still got to find a way onto one of those ships.”

“Can you give me any help with that? We got the plans for Raada, but how about scheduled incoming ships? Any transmissions with that information picked up?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll get to finding out.”

You nod before remembering that Poe can’t see you. “Roger that.”

You need to get trooper armor, but one look at the group formation of the patrols has any relatively easy plan thrown out the window. You need to create a diversion, and you’re afraid you already know what it is.

One look around the city and it’s easy to see. Citizens wear blasters on their hips like they’re going out of style. Each pass of patrols brings shaky hands to hover over the holsters, eyes all the while looking weary and on edge. The patrols show the signs as well – guns gripped too tightly at the ready to not be expecting combat at any moment. The city is a bomb, and a single spark could send the whole city into an explosion.

You don’t have any matches, but a blaster can do the trick just as well.

You slink your way into a side alley, checking for no other occupants before finding your target. A vendor across the way has a blaster strapped to his hip, many of his customers the same. You’ve got a clear shot, and as long as the crowd doesn’t shift too much, you can fire off a shot close enough to cause a panic, but not so close as to actually hit the man. You poke your head around the corner, checking the patrols progress up the road.

You have about five minutes before the troopers become directly even with your alley. Two minutes after that, the patrol finds themselves standing just between the vendor and yourself. You send off a shot. The blast flies through the patrol, bolt hitting the wall just next to the vendor’s head.

It takes less than seconds for chaos to break out. Blasters are drawn as shots are fired from both sides. Screams fill the air as children are rushed out of the danger. Just around the corner, more troopers storm in, blasters firing as soon as the rebel citizens are in range.

You take advantage of the panic, waiting for a trooper to find himself in front of your alley. When one does, you grab the back of their armor, slamming the muzzle of your blaster between the helmet and chest plate and firing off two quick shots. When the trooper’s body sags to the ground, you quickly grab the body and drag it back into your alley and out of the battle zone.

“I heard blaster fire, are you alright?” Poe’s voice is in your ear, worried.

“Peachy. I’ve taken down a trooper – about to take the uniform. Any word on those ships?”

“Yes. There’s a ship at the Kafrene compound right now dropping off supplies from Raada. It’s scheduled to make a direct trip back to Raada in less than two hours.”

“Roger that. I’ll be on the ship in one.” You begin stripping the soldier of his armor – or as you find out after pulling off the helmet,  _her_  armor. You quickly slip the armor onto your body but hesitate when it comes to putting on the helmet.

Working mostly as a pilot and spy for the First Order, you were never forced to wear the white stormtrooper armor, but the helmet still weighs too heavy in your hands _. Faceless_. That’s what the helmet will do. It will turn you back into a faceless First Order soldier. Faceless. Worthless. Expendable.

You take a deep breath and shake away your thoughts.  _It’s just for a little while, not forever._

You slip the helmet on your head. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the small field of vision the helmet allows.  _Maker, no wonder their aim is so horrible_. You retrieve the standard issue stormtrooper blaster from where it fell, thinking through what you’re to do next.

Going back into the streets in this armor to be shot at like a target is not an option, but neither is firing at citizens that are fighting for the same freedom you are. You find yourself at a crossroads when you notice that a few meters down, there is quite literally a crossroads – or a cross alley at least. Venturing towards the intersection, you see that the alley you’re in connects to another, and another, and another. They’re all interconnected.

Checking behind you to see more blaster fire being shot, you decide that navigating your way through the alleys is your only option right now. You can only pray you don’t get lost. You walk down the alley, taking rights and lefts as you objectively see fit, eventually landing back on the main road, but far away from the fighting you left. You find yourself in part of the city you’re unfamiliar with, looking for any way to find a way to the First Order base. A quick look to the skies gives you your answer.

Just south of your location, First Order ships are coming and leaving from one main area, making it the only possibility for the base’s location. Praying your hunch is correct, you make your way south.

Walking through the streets in First Order armor is strange to say the least. Slipping in and out of crowds to avoid being seen is natural for you at this point, but walking down the street to see people part at the sight of you is… unnerving. You don’t like the attention – the fearful eyes strained on your sleek white armor. The people are terrified of you. You shake off the discomfort, quickening your steps.

Too many minutes of walking later, you’re arriving at the main gate for the First Order Kafrene base. The tall grey walls of the base send a spike of fear through you. Troops by the hundreds run drills on the front platform in perfected form while praetorian guards stand watch. You slip into the world of white soldiers, passing through the perfectly sectioned platoons. You‘re surprised to make it to the main gates without being stopped.

Entering the main building, you begin your trek towards the ship bay with haste – you lost to much time in the “ambush” fiasco, leaving you far less time to find the ship than you’d like. You’d never been to the base on Kafrene, but you recognize the base layout as one of the many common types you were forced to memorize as a soldier. The ship bay is across the base from the main gate, meaning that you have to find your way through the near entirety of the base undetected.

You make it just past halfway when you’re stopped.

“RS-0286, why are you not still on patrol with your squadron?” A cold voice calls out behind you. Noticing no one else in the hallway, you assume that the voice is speaking to you. You turn around, coming to face a tall body of captain’s armor.

“My platoon was ambushed during our patrol. I am the only one who made it back alive,” you say, the helmet leaving your voice mechanical and far too ugly in your ears.

“And you didn’t stay to fight with your platoon?” You can hear the anger building on the captain’s tongue.

“My leader told me to return to base to give news of the insurgent citizens should the ambush turn in their favor.”

“I see,” the captain says, obviously not believing your words but having no proof otherwise. “We shall see about this act of rebellion, but for now you’ll return to your quarters until you’re given further instructions.”

You nod, giving the captain a salute before going in separate directions _. Return to your quarters, my ass_. As soon as the captain is out of sight, you double back and continue towards the ship bay, keeping an eye out for any more high-ranking officers as you go. Thankfully, you meet no more resistance and soon arrive to the bay.

You take inventory of the ships preparing to launch and notice only one cargo ship. That must be your ship. You approach the ships, fully aware of the flight officer standing guard at the hatch doors. Not having a better plan, you try to enter the hatch point blank, acting as if you belong.

You’re really not surprised when it doesn’t work.

“Soldier, you’re not admitted to this ship. All transferred soldiers have already been accounted for.”

“I am a last-minute transfer, sir. The rest of my platoon was killed, and I was told to report for transfer to the base on Raada.”

The officer levels you with skeptic eyes. “What’s your transfer code, soldier?”

Assuming you’d make it to a captain when you were still in the First Order, you had to memorize all base codes and code makeups in training. You can only hope the system hasn’t changed since you’d left.

“04925-36992.”

“Very well then. See yourself on board soldier.”

You send a sharp nod to the officer, only letting your sigh of relief free once you’ve made it into the ship’s main area. You see other transferred soldiers in line in the ship and fall into formation with them.

“Not bad, sweetheart. Maybe you can be stealthy yet,” Poe’s voice is light in your ear, and you have to restrain yourself from answering back and being noticed by the other soldiers.

 

* * *

 

The trip to Raada is shorter than you’d expected it to be, arriving to the lush green planet in less than four hours. The planet is still basking in mid-day light, and your nerves jump at the sun still high in the sky. You hadn’t calculated how quickly the First Order ship could make it to Raada. The attack isn’t planned until tomorrow, leaving you stranded and trying to blend in for another twenty-four hours at least. You take a steadying breath.  _You know all the protocols, you know all the drills, you can do this._

You and the other soldiers are ushered off the ship by another flight officer, telling you to report to the main gate for quarters assignments. Falling into formation, the group arrives at the main gate to be greeted by another stormtrooper. You’re guided through the building, arriving to the soldier’s wing where room assignments are handed out to pairs of soldiers. With everyone assigned, the stormtrooper that guided your group informs you that you’re to be on the main pad at 0500 sharp to receive specific assignment details.

Free of an assigned platoon, you and the other soldiers have no obligations for the remainder of the day. Many troops break off to train while many others choose to find the communal area and take advantage of the lack of assignments. You, instead, choose to walk around the base, double-checking the layout and location of the main control room. Once assured that the control room is where it is supposed to be, you start figuring out your escape route. Your extraction point is off the west edge of the base, so you navigate halls to find the fastest and most vacant route to the west gate. You ingrain the path into your memory and force it to stay.

You find time passing quickly as you plan your escape, soon finding it to be dinner time. You report to the mess hall and fall into the service line. Slowing inching your way forward, you’re finally met with a tray of grey mush being thrust at you. You take in with a grimace and look for a place to sit. Looking across rows and rows of tables, it’s strange to see all the white helmets taken off to show the faces that lie under the armor. Fighting this war, it’s easy to forget that under all the helmets and braces, real people are there. Real people most likely taken from their homes just like you were.

You shake the thought away. Not like you. You realized what the First Order was doing, and got away. They’re still here.

The words do nothing to absolve the pull on your heart as you take a seat at a table near the back. Pulling off your helmet, you keep your head low, hoping that no one from Kafrene will notice that you’re not truly RS-0286. Finishing your meal quickly, you slip your helmet back on and report back to your quarters. Night is falling fast, and your roommate returns to your room not long after you. She easily peels off her helmet to flash you a smile, but you find greater trouble lifting your helmet off in fear that she’ll notice your face doesn’t match RS-0286’s name.

The girl tries to make conversation for a few more minutes, but she must realize that you’re not going to engage in conversation because she quiets then, changing and crawling into her bed. Once you hear her breathing even out, you allow yourself to remove your armor. Keeping on the same clothes you wore on Kafrene, you crawl into your own bed, laying on your back. You gaze aimlessly at the ceiling for a few minutes before whispering into the silence.

“Poe?”

There is a silence on the other line, you assume the dark-haired pilot has already fallen asleep. You resign yourself to the quiet when he speaks your name – his voice deep and rough in your ear.

“Did I wake you? If so, I’m sorry,” you say. Your voice is just barely a whisper, careful not to wake the girl sleeping in the bed just across from you.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. What’s up? Are you okay?” His voice is slow from the fading sleep.

“I’m okay, just needed a familiar voice. You can go back to sleep if you want though. I didn’t mean to bother you.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling so timid, but calling out for Poe in the night – even being worlds away – has your cheeks tinging pink.

“Nonsense. I’m up now, so there’s no reason not to talk.”

His words bring the smallest of smiles to your face. “How is everyone on base? Anything exciting happen?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen anyone but Tadia who keeps checking in to keep tabs on me to make sure I’m keeping tabs on you.” A low, deep rumble of a laugh filters through your transmitter, and the sound sends a shock down your spine.

You return a small laugh his way. “To be fair, you had to have known that was coming when you assigned yourself as the one extracting me.”

“I did, but I had no idea it’d be  _this_  bad.” You can hear the smile in Poe’s voice. “But she does it because she cares about you getting back here safe, so I can’t be too mad at her.”

You laugh quietly. “You better not be! She’s still my best friend, and I’ll roundhouse kick you if you talk bad about her.”

That gets a loud laugh from Poe. “You know, your threats aren’t so threatening when you’re half a galaxy away from being able to hit me.”

“Maybe right now I can’t, but I’ll be back come tomorrow, and you should be worried.”

Poe hums for a moment before speaking. “I’m not so sure. If you try to attack me, I could always send BB-8 after you.”

A small shocked gasp escapes your lips. “You wouldn’t dare! The poor droid hates me, and I’m not sure he would hold back.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“The last time he saw me, he just about ran me out of your room and stood guard over you the whole time.”

“Okay, so maybe he’s not exactly fond of you, but he’ll come around!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you laugh.

And you and Poe continue like that, laughing and joking in the dead of the night. Despite being stuck in a First Order base, you feel the webs of tension leave your body as Poe’s voice lulls you into comfort. As more words are swapped and hours pass, your eyes slowly fall shut while your words become slow. When your eyelids finally droop shut completely, it’s Poe’s voice kind voice that whispers goodnight in your ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! All my love!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be expected that nothing ever goes perfectly according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I totally thought I updated on Friday, but I guess it didn't go through??? Yikes. So sorry for the delay, but here is the next chapter! :)

By sheer luck, you wake up before your cabin mate. You slip into your stolen armor and leave your room. Finding the time to be 0400, you know you have a good few hours to kill. The attack is planned for 2300 your time which means you have just less than 24 hours to solidify plans and maintain your cover.

In an hour, all the transfer troops you were sent here with will be given specific assignments, but since you weren’t officially transferred over, you have no assignment. You’re a glitch in the system, so you’re going nowhere near the main gate at 0500. Being the odd trooper out with no assignment will do nothing but get you caught.

While the base wakes, you run your planned route again. You pass by the control room – this time taking in the door locking mechanism. It looks like an average key card lock, opening with the swipe of a card from any high enough ranking officer. Given the number of times you’ve had to disable locks of just this manner, getting into the control room should be a breeze. Knowing typical procedures, there will be two soldiers inside monitoring cameras and watching the base.  Your hand jumps to your blaster. Two soldiers should be no problem. From there, you simply must shut off the shield gate which is a task no harder than finding the correct switch and flipping it.

Then, your escape. You walk your fastest exit path, slipping down hallways to double check your mental map. Coming to the opening of the base’s west gate, you gaze into the dense forest that surrounds the area. Fifty-two hundred feet out from the gate you currently stand in is your extraction point. Once there, you’ll give Poe the okay, watching from a safe distance as the base gets blown to bits, and you’re safely picked up from the planet. Everything should go just as planned.

Satisfied with your self-brief on what you must do, you check the time to find that it is 0500. The other troopers will be getting assignments right now and will most likely be reporting to their assigned positions immediately. All being on duty, the cabin area will be nearly completely vacant. Knowing you didn’t get enough sleep the night previous, you move back to the cabin area, deciding to get sleep before your mission late this evening.

When you wake up hours later, it is 1300. Ten more hours. You check outside of your cabin door, finding the area still empty. Assuming the base is alive and alert at this time, the empty quarters are your best bet at not being caught, so that is where you will stay. Slipping back into the privacy of your room, you call out into your transmitter.

“Poe?”

There is a moment of silence before he answers, his voice calling your name. “What’s up?"

“Just checking in. I’ve run the mission route a few times and should have no problem carrying everything out. How are things on your end? Are you all prepared for the attack.”

“Not entirely – not yet anyway. We’re running final ship checks now and having a final brief in about two hours, but when the time comes, we’ll be more than ready.”

“Good.”

“Are you ready for this? How are you feeling?”

You let out a small laugh. “How am I feeling? Absolutely terrified,” you say, running a shaky hand through your hair.

“Well don’t be. I believe in you, and if everything goes according to plan – which it will – you’ll be in the woods, far away from the danger before it even starts.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The next few hours pass at a terribly slow pace. You stay in your quarters, hidden away from everyone until dinner. You’ve stayed hidden too long, and your body needs nourishment – not to mention that after dinner many troops will most likely be returning to their quarters, meaning that you can’t be there when they do. You eat with your head down near the corner of the mess hall. Once finished eating, you exit the room, trooper helmet on. You wander down corridors for a while, passing the control room periodically.

The final few hours before your mission’s beginning pass as slowly as the rest, but soon the clock is striking eleven and you move into action.

“The mission is a go. I’m initiating phase one now,” you say into your transmitter.

“Copy that. Our ships are surrounding the planet. We’re prepared for attack as soon as you give the word. Good luck, commander” Poe replies, his voice strictly business.

Speeding your way to the control corridor, you quickly shoot out the security camera to keep from being spotted by the monitoring soldiers. Reaching the main control door, you deftly work your way into the lock pad, disabling the mechanism and making the control doors slide open.

Inside, the two guards jump at your sudden entrance, but you fire off two killing shots with your blaster before they have time to raise any alarm. Now alone, your eyes skim the control panel, pupils finally landing on the correct lever to deactivate the shield. With a steadying breath, you place your hand on the lever, slowly easing it into the off position.

“Alright, the shield gate is down. Once I-”

That’s when the alarms start blaring. Bright red lights flash all around you as the base goes up in a loud alarm, the wailing of an alarm siren screeching into your ears. Your hands fly to cover your ears, but the piercing sound still breaks through.

“ _Shit shit shit shit shit shit_!”

Having heard the alarm, Poe’s calls your name. His business-like tone is gone, voice now sounding frantic as calls out to you. “What’s going on in there?”

“Send the teams in now!” You break out into a sprint, needing to put as much distance between yourself and the base as possible before the ships start coming in. “They have a shield alarm I didn’t account for! It shouldn’t take long for them to figure out what’s going on. Get those ships in here and cut the base’s power before they can get the shield back up!”

“But what about you? You’re still in that base. We can’t send the ships in yet. The chances of you getting shot in the attack are too high!”

“We can, and we will! I’ll be fine. I’ll find a way out and to the extraction point, but you have to send those ships in  _now_. We won’t have another chance to do this.”

“I’m not putting you at risk-”

“I already am at risk!” You yell, voice now frantic. He needs to listen to you. “Send the ships in now!”

“No. Taking the base is not worth your life!”

“Well then it’s a good thing I don’t plan on dying today!” Poe calls your name, but you cut him off. “Poe, I need you to listen to me on this one. Send those ships in. Trust me, okay?”

 His line goes silent for a while, but when he returns, his voice is heavy. “The ships are on their way.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Poe calls your name, his voice holding something you can’t quite pin. “I’ll be waiting for you at the extraction point. Please _, be careful_.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you say, and with that, your conversation falls silent. You focus your mind back on getting out of the base. You fly past corridors, shooting any soldier you happen to run into on the way. The bulky stormtrooper armor slows your motions, but you’ll lose more time taking it off than you will just dealing with it. You’re halfway to the west gate when the shooting starts. You feel the base rock with the first shots fired. You stumble a bit due to the ground’s tremors, but you continue on your way. You’re nearly to the west gate when every light in the base goes out, leaving you in pitch black darkness. You grin to yourself. They must have hit the power cells which means they can’t put the shield gate back up. You give a small cheer before falling back into seriousness once again.

Still going at full speed, you see the west gate ahead of you and burst through the doors. The light of the stars illuminates the night, as you come into the open air, but you don’t stay there for long. Looking to the skies, you see an X-Wing flying right for you, but it’s not the blasters that are engaged. Fear shoots through your body. No, instead of blasters, the ship holds a set of explosives, and by the looks of it, they’re coming to drop right on you. Eyes widening, you try to dive back into the compound, but the bombs are already falling, and the force of the explosion sends to flying back towards the compound, back smacking on the hard stone walls, your body slumping to the floor like a rag doll.

The explosion leaves you disoriented, and your body takes a moment to respond again. Opening your eyes, fire blaze all around you, and debris litters the area. Parts of the roof are caving in, and staying here means being crushed when it finally falls. Forcing yourself to move through the ache in your muscles, you struggle back onto your feet. Standing up, your head feels like it’s underwater, and your ears are ringing. Looking around, you see your helmet a few feet away from you – it must have gotten thrown off in the explosion. The ringing fades and soon a static buzz fills your ear. You let out a frustrated groan. Your transmitter must have gotten damaged in the explosion. Reaching a hand up, you yank the now useless transmitter out of your ear and throw it amongst the debris, finding blood on your fingertips when you pull away. You shake away your frustration and force your body to move.

Exiting the gate doors again, you spare a glance at the sky to find no more fighters speeding towards you. You dash forward. There’s about eighty feet between you and the tree line, and if you can make it there, you should be hidden enough by the tree cover to avoid drawing any ship’s fire.

Maybe it’s the disorientation, or maybe it’s the excess of adrenaline in your system right now, but you make it to the tree line in no time, slipping into the obscurity granted by the green leaves. You start to feel your muscles burn with exertion, but you don’t let up. You can hear the destruction and carnage that is no doubt taking place behind you, but you dare not spare a moment to look back and see it. You can only hope that the thunderous explosions are the work of your people and not the enemy.

You run for a few more minutes before you see a flash of orange between the breaks in the trees. For what may be the first and last time, you thank the god-awful paint job on Poe’s X-Wing for letting you know that you’re close. With less than two more minutes of sprinting, you’re breaking through the tree line and into the clearing. Once in full view of the ship, you skid to a halt, bracing your hands on your knees and greedily gulping in as much air as you can. You’re only three breaths in when you’re pulled from your position and into someone’s arms.

“Thank the maker you’re alright.” Poe’s hold is tight around you and his voice is relieved in your ears.

You wrap your arms around him as well, too shaken and tired to formulate a reply.

He soon pulls away, but he keeps his arms on your shoulders, inspecting your body. “Did you get hit on the way here? Are you hurt at all? I told them to avoid the west end for as long as they could, but then your line went dead and I thought-”

 “Poe, I’m fine,” you say, placing a hand on his cheek to silence his rambling. All things considered, you should be the one that’s a nervous, terrified mess right now, but you find your emotions to be strangely calm in the moment.

His eyes zero in on your bleeding ear. “You’re hurt. I knew sending the ships in was a bad-”

The hand on his cheeks pulls his eyes back towards yours. Your eyes stare into his, reassuring him that you’re okay. “It’s one small injury. I’m okay, Poe, I swear.”

He gives you another once over just to be sure before pulling you back into his arms, his face buried in your hair.

“You know, I’m starting to think I liked it better when you didn’t want to take any risks. It was much easier to keep you alive that way.”

“Don’t worry, Poe. Risk or not, I’m not planning on croaking anytime soon.”

“Good. Now let’s get you out of here, but first, maybe lose the armor. Hate to tell you, but Imperial white is not your color.”

Despite the situation, you let out an unrestrained laugh. “You know, for once I think you may be right.”

Pulling away from his embrace, you shed yourself of the stormtrooper armor before joining Poe back to his X-Wing. Climbing in, the space is a tight fit, but you manage to squeeze into a makeshift seat placed behind Poe’s own pilot seat. Your legs are pressed uncomfortably tight against your chest, and there is something strange poking into your back, but you still feel an unfathomable elation at sitting down in a familiar ship with a familiar person and feeling  _truly_  safe for the first time since this mission began.

“BB-8, you ready for takeoff?” Poe calls to his droid who sits in his small compartment just behind the cockpit.

A high-pitched pair of beeps leaves the droid, and Poe nods, but then the small robot lets out another series of noises.

“What did he say?” you ask from behind Poe.

The ship’s engine flares to life, and Poe eases the ship off the ground and into the sky. “He says he’s glad you’re safe.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure about that? Not even five days ago he hated me.”

“Maybe you’ve finally grown on him.”

“Grown on him? I’ve been gone for the last four days. How could I have possibly grown on him?”

“Maybe because you’ve been gone for the last four days. You not being around sure makes you a lot more likable.” Poe’s voice is sly, joking evident in his tone.

“Hey!” You cry indignantly, a laugh falling from your lips. You reach your hand up to flick Poe’s ear. “I’m a joy to be around. I see the last four days hasn’t made you any nicer to me.”

“Says the one who’s flicking me as I’m trying to fly a ship!”

“Nice pilots don’t get flicked in the ear,” you say.

“Yeah well neither should this pilot.”

“Well, it’s too late to take it back now."

Poe rolls his eyes, but a small smile still plays on his face. A comfortable silence falls in the cockpit as Poe lifts the X-Wing away from the Raada’s surface. During your ascent, you can see that the base compound is nearly completely destroyed, and you can’t help the smile that graces your lips. Soon though, the view gets further away as Poe breaks through Raada’s atmosphere, quickly jumping to hyperspace and finally bringing you home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are appreciated (and encouraged). Thank you for reading! All my love!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets a mission back to a familiar planet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow being out of school is really messing up my mental calendar I didn't even know yesterday was Friday oh god I'm a mess lol Sorry about me being late again! Hope you guys enjoy :)

The tide of the war is changing. The resistance, for the first time in a long time, is back on its feet. Battles are met and often found victory. For the first time since you can remember, the resistance is the one making offensive strikes. In the months since your attack on Raada, three more bases were attacked and destroyed. With every loss the First Order faces, hope returns to the galaxy.

That hope is exactly what has you in command center with Poe. Standing around the main command table, General Organa addresses you both.

“Commanders, I’m sure you’re both familiar with the planet Nybyki.” Your eyes widen at the mention of your home planet. “We’ve got a contact there that may have some information on the First Order that could prove beneficial to us.”

“A contact?” Poe asks, incredulous. “We haven’t had outside aid since… Hoth.”

A small smile graces the general’s face. “News of our victories has been spreading. The people are putting their faith back in the resistance.        We’ve given them hope again, and they’re willing to help keep it this time.” The general’s face becomes serious once again. “Though with hope growing, so too are the people who want to crush it. I can’t be sure how reliable this contact is, which is why I’m sending the two of you.”

The general turns to you then, calling your name. “You’ll run point. You’ll meet with the man two days from now. He’ll meet you in the alley of an inner-city marketplace. Poe,” she turns to him, “you’ll be on lookout. If anything looks even the slightest bit off, it’s your job to make sure the two of you get out safely. This information may be useful, but it’s not worth risking either of you. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” you and Poe reply in unison.

“Good. The rest of the information about the meet up will be sent to your datapads. You leave first thing in the morning.”

She dismisses you, and you both head out of command and towards your rooms. Since your rooms are just across from each other, you walk side by side with Poe.

“Now why is it,” Poe’s voice is teasing as he nudges you with his elbow, “that you always get to run point?”

“Because I’ve had extensive training in diplomacy and recon by the First Order?” You shoot back, quirking up an eyebrow.

Poe hums for a moment. “No, that can’t be it.” He grabs his chin between his thumb and finger as if in deep thought.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” You shoot ahead of Poe, walking backwards to face him as you place your hand under your chin. “It’s because I’m the pretty one. Any man will spill his secrets to a pretty enough face.” You shoot Poe a look, your eyebrows jumping up and down on your forehead in jest.

Poe laughs loudly. “Okay, that’s  _definitely_  not it!”

Your mouth opens wide in mock hurt. Your feet stop moving, and you jokingly hit Poe in the chest, stopping his steps as well. “How dare you! This face could make a First Order general spill all his secrets if I wanted it to.” You want to sound serious, but you can’t help the giggles that fall from your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sure it could,” Poe says playfully, his tone sarcastic, “but that face won’t be getting anyone to spill any secrets if it doesn’t get back to its room and pack for the mission.” He gives your shoulder a light push, restarting your feet in the direction of your rooms.

“You’re just mad because you know it’s true.” You turn your head back to him, sticking your tongue out.

“I’ll never admit to such a thing.” His chin tilts up, grin taking over his face.

You roll your eyes at him, turning back around to find that you’ve arrived at your door. You bid Poe a quick goodbye before slipping into your room to pack, him doing the same. Once finished, you take note of the late hour and slip into bed, setting an early alarm for your departure tomorrow.

* * *

 

The next morning, before most of the base is awake, you and Poe are on the tarmac, doing final checks on your ship before loading in. The small shuttle ship is not large compared to most transport vessels, but the open space of the cavern is huge compared to the X-wing cockpit you’re used to.

Placing your bag in one of the ship’s storage shelves, you strap into one of the pilot’s seats, Poe following not far behind.

“You ready?” He calls as he buckles his last strap.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply.

You busy yourselves with the control of the ship, lifting the craft upwards before starting your jump to hyperspace. Nybyki was a good few hours journey from Mandalore, so you retrieve your datapad from your bag, thinking it best to read over the assignment details. You return to the cockpit and place yourself back in your seat. Since you’re leaving the piloting in Poe’s hands, you decide to go through the information aloud with him to save him the time of having to do it later.

Reading the assignment brief and crafting a plan with Poe, time passes quickly and soon, you find yourself strapping back in for the exit from hyperspace. The stars come back into focus as the ship slows down, and the populous world of Nybyki is right there.

You’re not quite sure how to feel. You hadn’t been back to your home planet since you were taken away at seven years old. A mixture of sadness and nostalgia rises in your gut. This is your home.

Poe must see the emotions on your face because he’s calling your name softly, giving you an encouraging smile. You smile weakly back, helping him drift the ship down through Nybyki’s atmosphere. Following the coordinates given in the assignment brief, you touch down on a ship pad near the south end of the city. You’re to pose as tourists just in the city for vacation, so to keep up appearances, you and Poe will be staying in a hotel somewhere further in the city.

Getting off the ship, you take in the fresh air. You take in the city around you, and the mixture of sadness and nostalgia grows stronger. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Poe’s steps as he exits the ship, both of your bags in his grasp.

With the time change from Mandalore to Nybyki, despite leaving early in the morning, the sky is dark, and the hour is late now.

“We should get going,” is all you say before taking your first steps into the city. Opening the map loaded in your brief, you locate the hotel – only four blocks from where you are now – and make your way in silence towards the building.

Arriving at the building, you head inside and speak with the man at the front desk, trading cash for a pair or room keys. You and Poe step into an elevator, surprised to find that your room is quite high in the building, and ascend to your floor, quickly finding your room and stepping inside. You’re not sure what’s come over you, but all you want to do is go to sleep and shake off whatever strange emotions have taken a reign on you.

“Hey, are you okay?” Poe’s voice is gentle as he speaks, his hand gripping your shoulder lightly. Concern shows on his face. He must have noticed your strange mood as well.

Your nervous fingers drum against your leg. “Yeah, sorry. This is the first time I’ve come back here since my brother and I were taken. This is my home. My  _real_  home. I guess it’s all just a little overwhelming for me.”

Poe sends you an apologetic smile, and you feel some of your unease slip away. “It’s okay. I can imagine this is weird for you. If I can do anything to help though, let me know.”

You nod, laying your hand atop his that lays on your shoulder. You send him a grateful smile. “I will. Thanks.”

He nods, and you both begin readying yourself for sleep, taking turns changing in the bathroom before each taking your separate bed. It doesn’t take long after your head hits the soft pillow for you to fall into slumber.

The sunlight filtering in from the window wakes you the next morning. Opening your eyes, you find that Poe is already awake and dressed. He’s going over something on his datapad when he notices your gaze on him.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. Why didn’t you wake me?” You ask, pulling the covers off your body. You move to your bag, grabbing your clothes for the day.

“We’re not supposed to meet the man until this evening. I figured I’d let you sleep in while you can.” Poe’s smile is soft.

You hum softly in contentment.

“Thank you.”

Needing to change, you enter the bathroom and quickly slip out of your sleep clothes. You change into a light blue summer shirt and a pair of black pants before reentering the main room.

“Come on, if we have the day to kill, no sense in wasting it in up here,” you call to Poe.

He shoots you a curious glance. “You sure? Yesterday you weren’t all that keen on being in the city again.”

“I’m sure.” You shoot him a reassuring smile. You’re really not sure, but you know that exploring the city can’t be any worse than sitting in a hotel room with nothing to do for twelve hours.

He nods, and they two of your slip out of your room, down the elevator and out into the city streets. You pull up the map from your brief.

“The street market we’re supposed to meet the man at is eight blocks from here. We could walk down there and check it out?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Poe’s grin is bright and sure, and you’re thankful for it. He is the only thing on this planet grounding you right now.

You walk the blocks together, pointing out things you remember from when you were a child. Poe asks questions here and there about the city, and you try to answer them as best you can with what you remember.

Eight blocks later, you and Poe find yourselves in a large street market, complete with colorful stalls, delicious smells from food vendors, and the screams and laughs of children as they play around the marketplace.

The strange feelings from yesterday start to take shape in your gut again, but you shove them down. Following behind Poe, the two of you make your way into the marketplace, looking at the handmade jewelry, art, clothes, and everything else under the sun.

You’re walking aimlessly when Poe suddenly stops in front of you. You nearly bump straight into him but catch yourself before you do.

“Look at these,” he says, turning to you. He gestures to the stall in front of him, the table full of colorful candies. “Do you want one? They’re not too expensive.”

You’re suddenly hit with an old memory, the strange feelings in your gut becoming more present as you look at the candies. “These are Nybyki sweet drops. My mother used to give these to my brother and I when we finished our homework. I haven’t had one since…”

Poe’s eyes widen at your words. He grabs your hand and tugs your body to face him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know.”

You gaze into Poe’s gentle eyes, and your body relaxes slightly. A small smile finds its way onto your face, and you tighten your grip on Poe’s hand.

“Yeah, let’s get some.” Poe takes a moment to watch your face for any signs of discomfort, but when he finds none, his face, too, breaks out in a grin.

He turns back to the vendor. “We’ll take one bag, please.”

The vendor, a kind-eyed old man, smiles and hands Poe a bag of pink and blue candies. Poe reaches his hand towards his jacket pocket to grab the money, but the kind vendor stops him.

“Don’t worry about it, sonny. This bag is on the house. It’s a beautiful day, and you’re with a beautiful girl – it’d make an old man like me happy to give you two a bag, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. “We have money to pay-”

“Stop that talk right there, young lady. It’d be my pleasure.”

The warm smile on the man’s face is pleasant, and you can’t help but send him a bright smile back. You and Poe thank the man before continuing on your way through the market. Poe fingers with the bag, eventually pulling off the ribbon the held it closed. He opens the bag to you, offering you a candy. You reach into the bag and pull out a small blue candy before popping it into your mouth. Poe does the same, only once the candy touches Poe’s tongue, he pulls a disgusted face. He quickly searches for the nearest trashcan, running towards it and spitting the candy out into the can. You laugh as the usually composed pilot swipes at his tongue to get the taste off.

“ _Kriff_ , you people eat that as a treat? I feel like I just licked the wrong end of a Tauntaun!”

“Nybyki food may be a bit of an… acquired taste,” you say through a bout of giggles.

“You can say that again.” You can tell Poe is trying to stay upset at the candy, but even he can’t help but laugh.

With Poe by your side, time passes quickly, and soon the sunlit sky fades from light blue to shades of pink and purple dusk.

“We should probably go find that rendezvous point,” you say quietly so that only Poe can hear.

Poe checks the time on his datapad. “The meet time is in two hours from now. We should probably get set for the meeting, yeah.”

Pulling up the map once again, you and Poe find your way to the alley you’re to meet the man. From there, the two of you scope out places where Poe can keep a look out without being too obvious. You notice a market bench not too far from the alley to where he can’t see you, but far enough away to where no one would think he’s even looking – perfect.

You must have forgotten how quickly Nybykian sunsets pass because as you and Poe go over the plan one final time, the sunset fades, and a dark, inky blue covers the sky. The night comes with a temperature drop, cold winds ripping through the city buildings and hitting your skin. Your short sleeves don’t do much to block out the wind and goosebumps raise on your arms. Speaking quickly through the final details of the plan, you bring your hands to rub at your cold skin in search of some warmth.

The meeting time is close, and Poe needs to go, but before he leaves he must notice your chill. Without asking, he pulls off his jacket and drapes it across your shoulders.

“What? Poe, no. I’ll be fine, and besides, you’ll get cold without-”

“You will not be fine – you’re practically shivering already. I’ve got long sleeves on. I’ll be okay.” Poe gives you a playful smirk. “And who knows, maybe the contact is a ruffian. The jacket may just give you the edge you need to get him to spill.” He sends a wink your way that has you rolling your eyes, unable to help the smile that comes with it.

Poe bids you good luck before quickly heading back into the bustle of the market. You turn away from the bright colors and sounds of the street stalls to walk further into the dark alley. You slip your arms through the sleeves of Poe’s jacket, pulling the leather tightly around you. You find that with Poe’s scent wrapped firmly around you, any nerves or ill feelings about the meeting wash away.

You’re not kept waiting for long. It’s less than thirty minutes later when a figure hidden in a black drape approaches you.

“Are there any good sales on Kubindi gems?”

You recognize the identification phrase from the mission brief. You push yourself off the wall you lean on, giving your identification call back.

“None worth my time, but the Bilbringi meat-pies are worth a taste.”

The figure removes the hood from his head, revealing a man no more than a few years older than you. His smile nearly splits his face in two.

“So it’s true. The resistance is alive again. It’s been months since we’ve seen any real activity. We thought you were finished – we were losing hope – but then I heard the whispers. I had to find out for myself, and now here you are.”

“Here I am,” you agree, “and now that I’m here, how about that information you claimed to have?” You know you’re being curt, but you still don’t know if you can fully trust this man.

“Oh, right!” The man quickly reaches into his drape, and your hand flies to your hip, hovering over the grip of your blaster. When the man turns back to you with a set of papers in his hands, you allow your posture to relax again. You take the papers from his offering hands. “That’s recorded sightings of First Order ships seen entering and leaving Csilla. Most are soldier transports, but supplies ships are seen often too. We think there’s a secret training facility there, and by the number of transports seen coming and going, it’s a pretty big one.”

You glance over the sighting reports. What he says matches what shows up on the pages.

You look back up at the man, sending him a grateful nod. “If this checks out to be true, we could have another leg up on the First Order. Thank you.”

The man nods back. “I’m just doing what I can to help keep this galaxy free. Now, I’ve got to go before someone gets suspicious.” The man turns to leave, but before he does, he turns back to you.

“May the Force be with you.”

Just as the words leave his mouth, he is gone, disappearing back into the dark of the city.

You wait a few more moments in the alley to avoid suspicion before you leave as well. You walk towards the end of the market closest to your hotel, and with a quick turn of your head, you can see Poe following not far behind you.

Leaving the marketplace, Poe trails behind you for another block before falling back into step beside you. You take the rest of the walk to the hotel in silence, knowing you should be in private before you speak about the information you were given in the alley.

When the hotel door shuts behind you, you pull out the papers the man gave you and explain what the man said to Poe.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would they need to be training soldiers in such huge numbers? They shouldn’t need that many new troopers unless-”

“They’re planning something,” you finish for him. “I want command to check into this info – make sure it’s all legit – but if this turns out true, we need to find out what they’re planning and shut it down before it starts.”

Poe nods. “I’ll call the general – let her know what we’ve found out.”

“Alright,” you say, leaving Poe to set up the portable transmitter.

While Poe calls command, you make your way onto the balcony outside of your room. The world is quiet, and you let yourself relish in the silence of the night as you gaze up at the dome of stars above you. Nybyki, from what you can remember, is one of few planets that still believe in stellatry – the worship of stars and celestial bodies. You remember your parents telling you as a child to turn out all your lights when the sun wasn’t in the sky. You were to always respect the stars’ and their one wish – to be seen by the world. Gazing out at the black windows across the city, you see that despite so many years passing, the sentiment is still held by Nybyki’s people. Nowhere in the city does light pollution rise to hinder your view of the starry sky.

You lean your elbows on the railing of your small balcony, tilting your head up to watch the glittering sky. You recall astronomy lessons from your brother, testing yourself to see what star names you can remember.

Behind you, the balcony door slides open, and Poe takes the spot next to you against the railing. You stay like that for a while, letting the silence fall comfortably between you as you both gaze into the night sky.

“This may sound dumb since we fly up there all the time, but I’m always amazed by the stars from down here.” Your voice is soft, with just the slightest bit of awe.

“It’s not dumb.” Poe’s voice is kind, his arm brushing yours as he speaks. “When I was on our last base – my home – Yavin 4, I would go off into the forests all the time to stare up at the night sky. It’s different down here than it is when you’re flying.”

You hum in agreement with his words, your body subconsciously leaning more into where your arm brushes his. “When you’re up there flying, it’s like you’re in the thick of the universe, but when you’re down here, the stars make you feel so small – like every problem and loss and worry is so far away.”

There is a beat of silence before Poe speaks, his voice nearly a whisper, “Which one is Atlas?”

You don’t even have to think when your hand points to the edge of the sky – it’s always the first star your eyes find. “That one. Look just between the two moons, and it’s the brightest star in that cluster. Just to the right of that one, that’s Annis.”

Once Poe finds the stars you’ve pointed out, he does something that surprises you. He touches two fingers to his wrist, then his forehead, then his lips, and finally his chest. From his chest, he pushes his fingers outwards towards the star, pads of his fingers facing the night sky.

“Wh- What are you doing?” You look at him in confusion.

“That’s how your people give thanks to the stars, right? Nybykians still believe in the life and wisdom of heavenly bodies, so when good things happen, they thank their watchful star, yeah?”

“Yes, but how do you… Why are you…” your voice trails off in confusion.

“I’ve been here a time or two before, and I’ve picked up on a few customs. I’ve been meaning to thank the star for a while now, but I never knew which one was Atlas.”

“What are you thanking the star for?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Protecting you.” His voice is soft but heavy with meaning. “Your brother’s last words… I want to thank Atlas as a way of thanking your brother. If it weren’t for him, who knows where you – where we all – would be right now. His actions freed you and brought you here to us. To me. I’m thankful to him for that.”

Your face heats up at his words, heart warming at his actions and the reasons behind them. Your eyes cast down to where your arm, still clad in his jacket, touches his. You move your arm from the balcony railing. Grabbing his hand in yours, you intertwine your fingers with his and give a gentle squeeze.

He mimics your action, a soft smile spreading across his face, and in that moment, it all makes sense.

Since you arrived on Nybyki, the strange feelings about your home kept forcing their way forward, leaving you confused as to what your emotions mean, but you think you understand now. Every time you felt a memory of your childhood bubble to the forefront of your mind, every time you saw something in the city that should make you feel connected to the planet but  _didn’t_ , every time you tried to force this feeling of homeliness on Nybyki, it was Poe who set your emotions at ease – grabbing your hand, giving you smiles, wrapping his jacket around you. You kept trying to make Nybyki your home, and maybe at some point it truly was, but not anymore.

No, your home is with Poe. It’s with Tadia and Finn and the generals and the resistance. Being in this city, your edges feel too  _sharp_ , too  _jagged_ , too  _rough_  to ever fit, but with Poe’s hands brushing your skin and his smile easing your worries, you can feel your edges slide perfectly into place – like they were meant to fit just so with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are appreciated (and encouraged). Thank you for reading! All my love!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets perhaps her most dangerous and glamorous mission yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sleepy

You don’t hear anything about the information from Nybyki until weeks later. You nearly forgot about it entirely if you’re honest. Returning from the mission, more and more outside aids have been cropping up and, being the only resistance member trained extensively in espionage, your job has shifted from flight commander to more of a solo recon worker. You’re kept off world most of the time, and your new role keeps you fairly busy. Terrible as it is, you’re a bit glad that you’re kept off base so much.

Since that night on the balcony on Nybyki, you’ve taken special notice to how Poe’s smile sends shocks through you, and how something as simple as the brush of his fingers against yours can set your whole body on fire. Poe, however, hasn’t seemed to make any noticeable change to how he acts towards you, so you shove down whatever these new feelings are. With Poe, you’ve found enemies, you’ve found acquaintances, you’ve found friends, but  _this_?  _This_  was something else entirely, and you’re not sure you’re ready to dwell exactly on what it is.

You find out what came of the information from Nybyki on one of the few day’s you’re on base. You had just finished running drills with your squad when you were called to command. None of the other pilots bat an eye at the solo call to command, all assuming it was another mission of ‘go to this planet and find this person and find out what they know,’ but your first step into command tells you that this mission is entirely different. Usually teaming with life, the command center is nearly vacant, save for you, the generals, and a few communications officers.

“Good afternoon, generals,” you greet, joining them at the central command table.

“Good afternoon, commander,” General Organa says. “We have another assignment for you.  I assume you remember the information gathered on Nybyki a few weeks ago, correct?”

You nod quickly in affirmation.

“Well, we’ve been looking into the information, and it’s unfortunate that what the contact said is true.” The general taps on her datapad for a moment, and a projection of what looks like recon footage jumps to life above the table. The footage is grainy but clear. You can see the planet Csilla, giant First Order transports and battleships moving to and from the planet in large numbers. “An unusual amount of transport ships have been landing on Csilla, but the contact was wrong about why. With the number of soldier transport ships going to the planet, we thought he was right at first – that the planet was home to a new training facility – but further inspection suggests something a bit more alarming. Along with trooper transports, an increasing number of large cargo ships have been making drops at Csilla, all of them carrying industrial building material. We think that the trooper transports are carrying engineers, and they’re building something down there – something that we can’t let them finish.”

“So how do we do that? Can we not just launch an attack on the base like we’ve been doing?”

General Gehrig shakes his head at your words. “We don’t know enough about what’s going on down there to accurately plan an attack. Moreover, we have no idea what they’re building, and hitting that base may not end whatever it is they’re planning. If they’re making more of whatever they’re building on Csilla, we need to know what we’re up against. We need to know how to stop it.”

“But how? We have no way of getting close enough to the base to get a look at the construction.”

 “We don’t need to get to the base,” Organa says. “An imperial officer has turned to our aid and has been working as a mole inside the First Order. He’s informed us that our theories of Csilla are true, but he has no idea the details of what’s being built on the planet. Word is that the project is progressing quickly, and there is to be a celebratory gala held by the project’s head of construction, Commander Ronan Mai. Our contact, Admiral Chaol Burke, managed to get you an invitation to the gala as Mai’s date. You’ll be posing as Burke’s daughter, Myra. You’ll arrive at the party and play the perfect guest at Mai’s side, but you’ll need to find a way to excuse yourself. Once out of sight, you’ll make your way to Mai’s personal office. You’ll have a data chip that will hack into the mainframe on his computer and allow you access to all his documents. Anything found related to Csilla will need to be transmitted back to base with a secure wire code we’ll give you. From there, you’ll rejoin the party unnoticed and lay low for the rest of the evening.”

“How long until the mission?”

“The gala is in a week, but you’ll be flown into Birren tomorrow to avoid suspicion.”

“Noted. Is there anything else I need to know?”

General Gehrig calls your name, and you turn your attention to him. “This mission is much more dangerous and has much more riding on it than your usual recon assignments. We have no way of getting another person into the gala, so you’ll be going in alone with no backup. In the event that something happens to you out there, we have no way of getting you back to safety. You’ll be walking to the lion’s den with no protection. Are you sure you’re up to the task?”

You weigh his words carefully before nodding. “Of course, general. I wouldn’t imagine saying no.”

“Good. We’ll have a brief sent to your datapad. Your data chip, as well as anything else you may need for the mission, will be waiting for you at Birren where you’ll be staying with Admiral Burke. Are we all clear, commander?”

“All clear, general.”

You’re quickly dismissed, but a call of your name from General Organa has you turning towards her once again.

“Yes, general?”

“I trust that you’ll keep this mission quiet? I don’t want the base in a panic before we’ve figured out how to properly tell everyone.”

You nod. “Of course, general.”

With that, you’re walking to your room to begin packing for your trip. Having no idea what the weather or customs are like on Birren, you pack every possible combination of clothes fitting for the daughter of a high ranking First Order officer. Only once your bag is full and zipped do you realize that you have no dresses fitting for a grand gala – granted you had no dresses at all, but that’s beside the point. Groaning, you ignore the problem for now, deciding to figure out the dress situation once on Birren.

All packed, you know that you’re to read your brief for the mission and familiarize yourself again with the plan, but the gnawing hunger of your stomach is stronger than the call of duty right now. You check the time on your datapad and find that your body was correct: it’s dinner time. You leave your brief as a ‘tomorrow to-do’ and head for the canteen.

Upon getting your food and sitting down at your regular table – Poe, Tadia, and Finn already sat and eating – you find an unfamiliar face at the table.

“You’re Rey, I presume?” you ask, offering a kind smile as you take your regular seat between Tadia and Poe. From her spot across the table, next to Finn, she nods, and you offer your name to her in return.

“I know. Even if Finn and Tadia didn’t talk about you all the time, Poe grumbled enough about you when we first got here for me to know,” she laughs good-naturedly.

Poe’s hand flies to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. “You know I really wish that we could stop talking about that,” he mumbles next to you.

You laugh and nudge his shoulder with yours, eyes going back to Rey. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet the one who’s been taking my best friend away from me to train all the time.”

“Hey! You’re the one that left me because you wanted to train with Poe instead. I simply found another partner where you  _left_ ,” Tadia says, jabbing you in the side as she does so.

“Alright, calm down you two,” Finn laughs from across the table. “It's like being at a table of toddlers.”

You stick your tongue out at Finn, playing off his words and making him roll his eyes at your childishness.

“You can’t really blame Tadia. Rey’s a pretty kick-ass sparring partner. I trained with her once, and I’ve never hit the mat faster in my life,” Poe says.

“Really?” You ask, eyebrow raised at Rey. “Anyone who can kick Poe’s ass has my seal of approval.”

Poe gawfs next to you, but Rey just laughs. “They make me sound like some kind of god. It’s probably just because I have more experience, you know, growing up on Jakku and all, fighting wasn’t always something you can get out of. Though I hear you’re quite a force to be reckoned with as well? Maybe you and I could spar sometime?”

“I’m always down for a good match,” you smile. “Though we might have to put that fight on hold for a little while. I’m leaving out for a mission tomorrow and I won’t be back for about a week or so.”

“You’ve got a mission?” Tadia asks.

“Yeah, I was actually just at command before coming here.”

“What’ve they got you doing this time?”

“Just the usual. Someone’s got information that we want, so I need to go and get it.” You shrug noncommittedly.

“For a week though? Usually those trips only two or three days max,” Poe says next to you, brows furrowed.

“Organa wants me to go in early. Something about the planet being pretty heavily guarded, so they want me to lay low and not cause any suspicion,” you say, hoping that no one catches onto the lie.

“Heavily guarded planet? Usually for missions like those, I go in with you. Are they sending someone else in with you?” Poe asks.

“No, they wanted me to go in alone. They probably have something else they need you to do in the meantime. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Poe nods at your words, but he still doesn’t look fully convinced. Hoping to change the subject, you turn back to Rey. “So from what I hear you’re force sensitive, floating rocks and all that? What’s that like, and can I see?” you ask, tone light again.

Rey laughs and nods, diving in to explain what the force is like, and you’re thankful for the shift.

* * *

 

The next morning, you’re up early, lugging your bag to your ship under the slight light of the nearly rising sun. You’re about five feet from the solo transport assigned to you for this mission when a voice calls out to you.

“Wrong ship, sweetheart.”

You recognize the voice immediately and turn to find where it’s coming from. Your eyes spot him just a few ships down, body leaning against a dual cruiser with an easy grin on his lips.

“And just how do you mean, commander? Last I checked, I was going in solo,” you call to him.

“Well, you’re not anymore. I guess Organa and Gehrig changed their minds. Looks like you’re stuck with me now, darlin’.”

You raise your eyes at the new nickname but choose not to comment on it. “Really now? Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with that, Poe?” you say, walking towards him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, grin widening to tell you that he knows  _exactly_  what you’re talking about.

“You’re impossible.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the grin that crawls its way onto your face.

“Maybe, but you love it.”

Your heart jumps at his words, but you force yourself to shove it down. You definitely don’t need those kinds of distractions on this mission, so you brush past him instead and head into the ship.

Looking around, you find the layout to be much like the ship you used on the Nybyki mission, so you place your bag next to Poe’s on a storage shelf and settle into one of the pilots’ seats. Poe follows not long after, and soon, your ship is in the air, heading through hyperspace to Birren.

“So, the generals didn’t tell me much about the actual details of the mission,” Poe says. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Have they told you about what’s happening on Csilla?” Judging by the confused glance Poe give you, you’ll take that as a no. “Well the information from Nybyki was right, but it’s an engineering plant down on Csialla, not a training facility.”

“An engineering plant? What are they building?”

“That’s the problem – we don’t know. So, I’m going to a First Order gala with the head of the project to get whatever information I can.”

Poe thinks for a minute before speaking again. “So, we’ve gone to scare tactics now? Tell us what you know, or we’ll force you to spend an evening with our scariest commander?”

“Poe!” You call incredulously, leaning over in your chair to hit him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll have you know I make a great date, thank you very much.”

Poe hums aloud, sending you a suspicious look. “I’m not so sure. You can be pretty mean, and I, of all people, should know.”

“Hey, you can’t say you didn’t deserve at least  _some_  of it,” you say with a laugh. “Besides, I think we’ve come pretty far from then.”

A small, soft smile crosses Poe’s face. “Yeah, we have.”

Silence falls in the cockpit, so you pull out your datapad, finding a new brief from command. Tilting your head in confusion, you open the brief to find that it’s not marked for you and Poe. Unbuckling and getting comfortable, you fall back into the pattern much like on the trip to Nybyki – Poe pilots while you read the brief aloud for the both of you. Reading through the details, you find that much of the mission is still the same, only now Poe will be monitoring you away from the party in case something goes awry.

“Where are we supposed to be staying while we’re on Birren?” Poe asks.

You scroll through the brief again before answering. “Says here that we’re supposed to be staying with our contact, Admiral Chaol Burke. I suppose that makes sense if I’m posing as his daughter.”

Poe nods. “And what about our communication equipment? I wasn’t given any from command.”

“Apparently that, as well as blueprints of Mai’s house, are supposed to be waiting for us with Burke.”

Your words are met with another nod from Poe. “And in the days before the gala? Do we need to do anything in particular to prep?”

You place your datapad down as you speak, “Well, nothing on the official brief, but I know at some point I need to find a dress for the event. I can’t exactly show up in my usual pilot’s clothes.”

“Have you ever even worn a dress? I didn’t think you even knew what those were,” Poe teases.

“Yeah, well, I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I? But I’m sure you know all about dresses, though. Got a couple in your closet, Poe?”

He laughs loudly before responding. “Oh you know it. Purple, blue, red, green, you name it, I’ve worn it. The short ones make my legs look great too.”

You roll your eyes and let out a short snort of a laugh. “Now that’s something I want to see one day.”

You and Poe’s chuckles die down, and you let a silence fill the cockpit. Letting your eyes wander, you gaze out the windows of the ship, letting the quiet carry you to Birren.

* * *

 

You don’t realize you’d fallen asleep until Poe is gently shaking your shoulder to wake you. Your eyes open blearily.

“Come on, sleepy, we’re close to Birren, and I’m going to need your help landing.”

You nod your head and quickly buckle back into your chair before shifting the ship out of hyperdrive. The glittery planet comes into view and guiding the ship down to the indicated landing pad takes nearly no time at all.

Back on the ground, you realize that you were never given exact coordinates to Burke’s house, but stepping out of the ship, you find that not to be an issue. Bags in hand, you and Poe descend the ship to find a man waiting for you. Upon seeing your face, the man tilts into a deep bow, his head dipping to let his straight black hair hide his face from your view. Your eyebrows shoot up at the scene.

“Myra Burke, I am Min Jongin. I was sent by your father to escort you back to the manner. Right this way.” The man stands back up and leads you and Poe to a nearby speeder. You and Poe gather in and allow Min to take the driver seat. Once settled, the speeder jumps to life and zips through the busy, glamorous streets of Birren.

It’s a short drive later when you arrive at the ‘manner’, as Min called it. Looking at the grand house, you’d more likely call it a mansion. You try to not look so completely gobsmacked as you take in the enormous building. Lustrous white walls raise dozens of feet above your head, windows showing the house floors stacked story after story. Around the house, a grand balcony runs the perimeter of the third story, the overhanging held up by ornate white columns.

“Madam, you may head inside while I grab you and your companion’s bags.” Min’s words shake you out of your reverie, looking to find him smiling kindly at you where he’s already opened your door.

You thank him and climb out of the speeder, Poe following just behind. You let your feet carry you towards the house, over the beautifully elaborate walkway and past perfectly manicured gardens.

You ascend the front stairs and find yourself at a pair of tall double doors. Feeling it impolite to simply enter, you raise your knuckles to knock at the light wood. It doesn’t take long for the door to be cracked opened by a black and gold droid. The bot quickly scans you and Poe, and a small beep has the droid opening the door further, allowing you entrance into the house.

The inside of the building is just as incredible as the outside. Glittering chandeliers hang from the ceiling of the foyer where a grand, deep oak spiral staircase leads to the next floor. Looking past the steps of the stairs, you find a grand living room with plush black couches and a fireplace that reaches to the ceiling. Around the brick of the fireplace, the walls are lined with rows upon rows of books of every shape, size, and color. You can’t help the way your jaw drops a bit at the view.

“It can be a bit much to adjust to at first.” A deep voice pulls your eyes to the staircase where a large man slowly descends.

“Admiral Burke?”

He waves a hand at your question. “Oh no, you can just call me Chaol. You must be my daughter for the next week, I presume?” He asks you. He is a large man, standing at what looks to be over six feet. His hair is a light grey, likely due to the years of stress working under the first order. His strong build would normally have intimidated you, but his eyes are warm, and his smile is soft.

“Yes sir, and this is my partner Poe Dameron.”

“A pleasure to meet the both of you,” Chaol says, hitting the bottom step. “Now if my memory serves me correct, I have some things for the both of you. Come along, now.”

You and Poe trail behind Chaol as he leads you through a small hallway on your right that soon opens to a large dining room. Sitting on the long table you see what appears to be a holopad, a data chip, and two white boxes – the first, a small thin box, the second, much wider and taller.

“These,” Chaol taps the pad to life, and a hologram of the layout of Mai’s house jumps to life, “are the blueprints to the house the gala will be held in. I can assume Leia has already caught you up to speed on Commander Mai?” You nod your head. “Wonderful. His house here is only a temporary home, so it’s luckily not as large as some of the other houses in the area. The building is only four stories, and his office is on the third. Right here.” He points to a large room on the third story’s floor plan. “The gala you’ll be attending will be held in the west wing of the bottom story, here.” He flips to the first floors layout, pointing to a set of large rooms. “I’m afraid that my mind is not as sharp when it comes to planning anymore, so I trust that you and your friend can figure out how you’ll get into his office?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Wonderful. This,” he picks up the small data chip, “is the chip that will get you into Mai’s computer. It’s already been programmed with the software to get you in, and I took the liberty of pre-connecting it to the wire code to command. All you have to do is find a place to hide it while you play your part with Mai.” You nod and Chaol turns to Poe.

“Leia tells me you’ll be monitoring her during the party?” A quick nod of Poe’s head has Chaol turning back to you and continuing. “Then you’ll need this.” He opens the first white box to reveal a beautiful, silvery diamond set of jewelry.

You furrow your brows. “I- This is beautiful, but I don’t see how this-”

Chaol cuts you off with a small click of his tongue. “Put it on,” he commands before moving back to the holopad. Confused, you do as he says. You clip the necklace around your neck, slip the bracelet onto your wrist, and are in the middle of gliding the earrings into your ears when the image in the holopad switches. Instead of Mai’s house projected by a hologram, you see… well, exactly what you’re seeing right now.

“What-” As you speak, you jump back in surprise when your voice is echoed back to you through the hologram.

Chaol lets out a loud laugh at your reaction before explaining. “The jewelry is a bit of technology that I’ve had one of my engineers working on for a while now. There is a set of cameras in the earrings that record and live project everything you’re seeing to its designated pad – in this case, mine. The necklace has a voice recorder that lets us hear everything you hear.” Chaol pauses to tap again at the holopad. A map with a single blinking green dot springs up next to the live view screen. “The bracelet acts as a tracker that refreshes your location every five seconds. If anything happens to you at that party, we’ll know as it happens and be able to track your location if you’re taken out of the house.”

“Wow… This is incredible,” you say, unable to hide your amazement.

Chaol smiles kindly, tapping again at the holopad to turn the screen back to the blueprints. “I’m glad you think so.”

Not wanting to risk breaking the tech, you begin taking off the jewelry and placing it back into its holding box.

“What about the other box?” Poe asks.

“Ah!” Chaol says as if just remembering it’s there. “I’m not so sure. It was sent from Commander Mai addressed to you,” he says to you. “Well, technically to Myra, but you get my point. I was waiting to allow you to open it.”

You raise your eyebrows but grab the box.

“Are we sure it’s safe? What if he knows this is a plot, and-”

“Oh, would you calm down,” you cut Poe off, rolling your eyes. “ _He_  invited  _me_  to this gala – if he thought there was some plot we wouldn’t be getting in at all. It’s probably just some flowers or something.” Assuming it to be nothing more than that, you open the box, to find a pair of elegant nude heels with swathes of soft red fabric under them.

“So, what’s in it?”

“I think dear old Mai just solved our little dress problem,” you say, picking up one of the shoes to hold it by its thin heel.

“He sent you a dress?” Poe asks surprised.

“And shoes,” you add with a small laugh. “Say what you will, you First Order class have taste.”

Chaol lets out a loud laugh next to you, but Poe doesn’t seem as amused by your joke. “The man has never even seen you. How do we even know if it fits?”

“If it doesn’t, I have a tailor in town that can adjust it as needed,” Chaol supplies.

“Ooh you hear that? He’s got a tailor,” you say saucily to Poe, finally getting a reluctant grin to break through his unusually serious face.

“You’re going to enjoy this far too much, aren’t you?” Poe asks.

“Are you kidding me? I get to go to a fancy party, get dressed all nice, and take down the First Order? Of course, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this.”

Poe lets a single laugh break through his lips. “What is it that you called me earlier? Impossible? Well, I’m starting to understand that now.”

“And what was it that you said earlier? Oh right, but you love it,” you send back with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please comment!


End file.
